


Pulse Point

by Xie



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-07
Updated: 2014-06-07
Packaged: 2018-02-03 17:07:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 50,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1752290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xie/pseuds/Xie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The premise of this fic - the first AU I ever wrote - is that Justin is a paramedic and Brian is a trauma surgeon at a Pittsburgh hospital.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Pulse Point, Chapter 1

**Pulse Point, Chapter One**  
By Xie

**Brian's POV**

I looked up from the computer screen, and watched the trauma team rush in with the kid we’d heard had been caught in a drive-by shooting. One of the paramedics was giving a rapid report to the trauma nurse, while the other one, a blond guy I’d never seen before, rode on the end of the gurney, keeping pressure on the kid’s leg.

I rubbed the back of my neck, and went back to my computer, waiting for the team to finish stabilizing the kid and come get me.

Sooner than I’d have thought possible, Cynthia was standing next to me. She looked pale.

“Brian?”

I looked at her, one eyebrow raised. “Ready for me already?”

She shook her head. “We called in Vance.”

“What the…”

She put her hand on my arm. Cynthia never touched me. “Brian… it’s Gus. The little boy is Gus.”

**Justin’s POV**

One of the nurses from the trauma team deftly slid her hands under mine on the little boy’s leg, and I jumped down from the gurney. I always hated it when little kids got hurt.

I stood watching the trauma team go into action all around the kid, hooking him up to monitors and shouting orders. One of the nurses looked at his face, and gasped. She went to the phone, and told them to get Dr. Vance down there right away.

Another nurse looked over his shoulder at her. “Kinney’s on tonight, what the hell are you calling Vance for?”

The nurse just shook her head, and left the room.

I was done there, so I followed her outside, looking around for Daphne. She was at the end of the hall, filling out some paperwork. I walked towards her, unzipping my jacket.

She looked at me. “God, that’s a fucked way to start a shift.”

I nodded. “I hate it when kids get caught up in this shit.”

Daphne sighed, and signed her name with an illegible flourish. “Let’s go.”

She drove and I made a fast run for two coffees to go from the Starbucks near the hospital. We were sitting in the truck, waiting for the coffee to cool enough to drink.

Daphne blew on the surface of the liquid. “That kid was Dr. Kinney’s son.”

“Dr. Kinney?”

“The tall guy at the computer.”

I thought for a minute. She rolled her eyes. “The one who’s hot as fuck, don’t tell me you didn’t notice him. I’ll lose all faith in human nature.”

I laughed. “Tall, dark hair, beautiful hands, five o’clock shadow, soft lips?”

She smirked. “Thank you. I was worrying.”

Then I stopped laughing. “That was his little boy?”

She nodded. “Yeah, but his mom’s a lesbian or something, he plays for your team. _Most_ enthusiastically, I’ve heard.” She grinned.

“Hmmm.” I suddenly felt uncomfortable thinking a guy was hot when I’d just brought his kid in with a gunshot wound to the thigh. “I think his little boy will be okay, though. Although that bone was a mess.”

“Yeah. That was weird. But he was pretty stable, considering.”

Just then we got a call that there was a second gunshot victim, at a second shooting scene a few blocks from the first. I looked at Daph, and she looked back at me, and flipped on the lights and sirens.

I kept my hand on the coffee lids as she slowed down to let some moron in an SUV pull over. “This is bad.”

She nodded tersely. “Shooting spree. Miss the suburbs?”

I looked out the window at the icy streets. “There were shootings in the suburbs.”

We pulled up in front of the gas station, where police cars and three other ambulances were already standing. The whole scene was a blinding glare of lights reflecting off the wet pavement.

“What the fuck?” I jumped down and stood staring. A cop with a radio came over. “This one was a mass shooting, ten people injured, two killed.” She gestured at a woman sitting in the backseat of a squad car. “She’s having trouble breathing, and has a pretty bad leg wound. She seems confused, too.”

Daphne and I assessed and stabilized her, and convinced her to let us transport her to the hospital. Pitt had shut itself to further traumas, so we had to head across town to the university trauma center. By the time we were on our way back, we heard that they were closing to trauma, too. It was a bad night.

**Brian’s POV**

I stood there looking at Cynthia with absolutely no comprehension of what she’d just said. I couldn’t even ask her anything.

I wasn’t sure I could hear anything, either. There was a strange sound in my ears, like hail hitting a car roof. Or static.

She spoke slowly. “Brian. The little boy is Gus. He’s stable. I called Vance.”

Whatever was holding me snapped then, and I followed her down the hall and into the room. Vance was examining Gus’ leg, and I flinched when I saw the mass of blood and tissue and shattered bone.

Vance looked up, and saw me standing there. His face didn’t change at all, and he didn’t say anything to me, just to Cynthia. “Get MacDonald down here right away. This bone is all over the place.”

Cynthia turned around and grabbed the phone near the door. I heard her paging Marianne MacDonald in ortho, and then I heard the hail in my ears again. I shook my head, and took a step closer.

Vance didn’t take his eyes off Gus. “Brian. Get out. I’ll come talk to you in a minute.”

I swallowed. “What the fuck happened to his bone? Did they use a fucking machine gun?”

This time he looked at me. “One minute. Can’t you just step out into the hall? It’s hard for me to do this with you watching.”

He was full of shit, so I didn’t move. He didn’t say anything, just finished what he was doing, gave some low voiced orders to his nurse, and then walked past me, gesturing at me to follow. Asshole.

I stood in the hall, in the harsh fluorescent light. His face was a mask, and I made mine that way, too.

“You saw the bone.”

I nodded. It was a shattered mess.

“Brian, it looks like a sarcoma. I won’t know for sure until orthopedics looks at it, but I’m pretty certain.”

“Brian?” It was a woman’s voice, full of tears.

“Lindsay.” I pulled her into my arms.

She clutched at me. “Did you see him, what’s happening? They wouldn’t even let me go in the ambulance, said they needed to keep pressure on his leg, and there wasn’t any room. I said they had to bring him here…”

If you ever wanted to really know how fucked up I am, all you had to know is that seeing Lindsay on the brink of hysteria calmed me down. I put my hands on her upper arms and looked right into her face. “I saw him, he’s stable, he’s not going to die. His bone is a mess, and we have an orthopedic surgeon on her way down right now. Let’s see what she says.”

Lindsay was crying and I pulled her into my arms. “What the fuck happened?”

“We were just coming out of the rest room at the gas station, and a car drove by and sprayed the parking lot with bullets. I grabbed Gus and threw him down on the ground, but one of the guys opened the back door of the car and…” she started to cry even harder… “Brian, he just shot right at us. And he laughed when he hit Gus.” Her eyes looked into mine. “He laughed.”

I glanced at Vance, and he looked sick for a minute, until his professional face slipped in place again. “Let me go see if MacDonald is in there yet.”

I took Lindsay into the trauma room with me, despite the fact that normally we’d have made the parents wait outside. Fuck the rules. I wasn’t just any parent.

MacDonald left Gus and met us before we’d gotten halfway to the exam table, and steered us back out into the hall. “The bullet wound isn’t that bad. Normally this wouldn’t even be an ortho case.”

I nodded, knowing what she was going to say. “There’s a sarcoma.”

Her eyes flickered to Lindsay, and back to me. “I can’t say for sure without a biopsy, but yes. That’s what it looks like.” She looked at Lindsay then. “That’s a form of tumor of the bone cells. You’re his mother?”

I didn’t know how much of our unconventional non-traditional family life had made its way around the hospital grapevine. But Lindsay just nodded.

We were standing in the hall while MacDonald explained things to Lindsay. I already knew the spiel, so I tuned it out. I saw Melanie at the end of the hall, and she saw me at the same time. We didn’t get along very well, but the sight of her dead white face might have made me feel sympathetic. If I could have felt anything at all.

Lindsay broke away from me and hurtled herself into Melanie’s arms, and cried harder. Mel looked at me over her shoulder. “What’s going on? Where’s Gus?”

I turned to MacDonald. “This is Gus’ other mom, Melanie Marcus. This is Marianne MacDonald, she’s the orthopedic surgeon who looked at Gus.”

MacDonald didn’t bat an eye at hearing Gus had two moms, so she either already knew, or didn’t care. Either one was fine with me. She simply pushed her red hair behind her ear, and started again at the beginning. Melanie had a lot more questions than Lindsay had.

I still didn’t say anything. MacDonald’s eyes kept shifting to my face, and then back to Melanie and Lindsay, but she didn’t address any of her comments to me.

Cynthia came out. “You can see him now, if you want, before we take him up.”

Lindsay and Melanie went in, and I stayed back for a minute with MacDonald. “How advanced is it?”

She shrugged. “I can’t tell with the gunshot wound. It’s not impossible this was a blessing in disguise. If you catch these early, you can do miracles these days. But we almost never do, except by fortunate accidents.”

I gave a short, bitter laugh. “Fuck you. I’m supposed to be grateful my six-year-old kid got shot in the fucking parking lot of a gas station, because it means we might have caught his bone cancer early?”

She didn’t put her hand on me, and her eyes didn’t soften. She just shrugged again. “I would be, if it were my son.” And she turned and went into the trauma room.

I stood in the hall for a long time, and then I went after her.

Gus was awake, amazingly, although pretty doped. He was blinking at his moms, not really saying much besides a few half-coherent questions. His eyes did brighten for a second when he saw me, though. “Daddy.”

I held his hand. “Hey, son. You’re feeling kind of bad, huh?”

He didn’t nod, just blinked. “Can I go home now?”

I shook my head. “The doctors here have to fix you up, so you’ll be here in my hospital for a while. But your moms and I will be here, and I bet lots of your friends will come visit, and everything’s going to be fine. But first Dr. Marianne has to fix your leg, so you’re going to have an operation.”

That fucking blink again. “Can’t you do the operation?”

“I’ll be watching the whole time, Gus, but this is a special operation, only a special kind of doctor can do it. I’m a different kind of doctor.”

His eyes drifted shut, but his hand was still in mine when they finally wheeled him away.

**Justin’s POV**

I’d only been working in Pittsburgh for a few days, but Daphne said that was the worst night she’d ever had. Our shift was normally ten hours long, but they asked if we could stay on an extra couple of hours. Some of the teams had to go to outlying hospitals, and response times were off.

We’d seen a cop car and stopped to find out what was going on, and they said the shooters were blasting all over town. They kept changing cars, and even though it seemed they were drunk or wasted or crazy, the cops hadn’t caught them yet. So we kept going to the scenes and helping clean up the damage.

It was after 2 in the morning, and we stopped at an all night coffee shop to get two cups to go. Daphne used the john, and I paid for the coffee. The waitress gave me my change. I stood waiting for Daphne, watching the TV news, which was repeating everything we already knew: the total death count, the numbers injured, that the shooters were still at large. That everyone should stay home.

We went back out.

**Brian’s POV**

I watched Gus’ surgery from the gallery. Lindsay tried to watch, but Melanie took her out after a few minutes. I didn’t feel anything, just watched like it was any patient. I let my mind follow the movements of Marianne MacDonald’s hands, my lips mouth the words she said to the assistants. When she did something I wouldn’t have done, my hands twitched. When she didn’t do something I would have done, I bit my lip.

The sound was on, but it was the peaceful background noise of an uneventful surgery. I saw her drop the biopsy sample in a bowl, and the nurse leave the room with it. I knew what the lab would find. I didn’t even think about it.

After three hours, it was over, and I went out to the waiting room. Lindsay was curled against Mel, and their heads were leaning together. Lindsay wasn’t crying, just staring at the wall. She jumped up when I came in.

“He’s fine. It looked good. I’m sure someone will come talk to us in a minute.”

Lindsay just dropped her ass into the chair and bent over, her head between her knees. Melanie stared at me for a few minutes, then leaned over Lindsay, rubbing her hand on her back.

MacDonald came in. She’d pulled off her scrubs, but nothing else. She didn’t waste our time. “The biopsy is definitely an osteogenic sarcoma, a bone tumor. I would say we caught it as early as I’ve ever seen. The chances we can treat this are extremely high.”

“Will you have to amputate?” My voice was flat.

Melanie gasped, but Lindsay was completely silent. I didn’t look at them.

MacDonald shook her head. “There’s no way to be sure yet. An oncologist will look at him tomorrow, and we’ll see. I can’t rule it out. But this early? A bone graft might be enough. We’re not there yet.”

She looked at Melanie and Lindsay, who were in shock. “Did you have any questions?”

Melanie licked her lips. “Amputation? Can’t they do chemo, radiation? Remove the tumor?”

MacDonald nodded. “Possibly. These are questions you’ll have to ask the oncologist. Sometimes we do get all the cancer cells, sometimes we don’t. This is a complicated and difficult kind of tumor. But as I said, I’ve never seen one caught this early.” She looked at me briefly, then back to Melanie and Lindsay. “As I told Dr. Kinney, the shooting could have been a blessing. Early detection is everything with bone tumors.”

I suddenly felt a wave of dizziness hit me, and I sat down. I glanced at the clock. I’d been at the hospital for 31 hours.

“Can we see him?” It was Lindsay.

MacDonald nodded. “Dr. Kinney can take you in.”

Gus was pale, breathing with a ventilator, and hooked up to every bit of monitoring equipment I normally took completely for granted. Lindsay ignored it all, and just smoothed Gus’ hair back from his face, while Melanie held his hand on the opposite side of the bed. I stood at the foot of the bed, and unhooked his chart from the IV pole. My eyes didn’t focus, let alone make sense of what was there. I blinked.

After half an hour, the nurses were glaring at us, and I got Lindsay and Melanie to leave with me. We sat in the waiting area again, and I leaned my head against the wall.

“Brian?” It was Lindsay. “You should go home, get some sleep, come back in a few hours. How long have you been here?”

I shrugged.

“More than 24 hours?”

“Yeah.” A lot more, but I didn’t say that.

**Justin’s POV**

Our shift was finally over. We’d been on for more than twelve hours. At some point the shootings had stopped. Maybe the shooters had finally passed out, or maybe they had gotten out of town. It had been two hours since the last shooting, though. It looked like it was over for now.

We were in the parking lot at Pitt, and Daphne had gone inside to fill out the hospital paperwork. I was sitting in the rig, doing our shift-end paperwork. The television shows always leave that part out.  When I was done, I jumped out of the ambulance, my feet slipping a little on the icy pavement. I threw out a hand and grabbed the edge of the door. I headed to the hospital to find Daphne.

When I got near the doors, I saw a man in scrubs sitting on the bench in front of the door, staring blankly into the distance. He must have been freezing. It was that doctor, the kid’s father. I stood next to him, and after a minute or two, he shifted his gaze to me. It was still blank, though.

I sat down on the bench and put my hand on his knee. He looked at it.

“How’s your little boy?”

He looked at my face again. It took him a minute to answer. “He’ll be okay. You’re the one who brought him in. Thanks.”

I shook my head. “It’s my job. I’m glad I was there.” I saw Daphne come out. She hesitated when she saw me, but went down to the rig without saying anything.

He stared at me, his lips folding in. I let my eyes stay locked on his for just a few seconds too long, and then a few more. Part of my mind said, this guy’s a surgeon, you don’t even know him, his son just almost died.

The rest of my mind told that part to shut up. I licked my lips.

I saw his eyes soften, and he looked less blank. “Are you off now?”

I nodded.

He stood up. “Come home with me.”

He started walking towards the back of the parking lot, right by the truck. Daphne was standing near the driver’s side door, watching me. I paused as we passed her. He kept walking. She looked at me for a minute, and I just shrugged, and followed him to his car.

He pulled out of the parking lot, and I looked at him in the shifting light from the street. “I’m Justin.”

He didn’t answer right away. “Brian.” He didn’t say anything else on the way to his place. He just drove to a part of town not far from Liberty Avenue, and parked in front of a brick building. He took me in, and we rode up in a creaking industrial elevator.

His loft fit my idea of where a surgeon would live a lot more than the elevator did. He pulled back the metal door and I followed him into a huge space full of gleaming floors and high ceilings, with a wall of windows looking out at the skyline and the river.

Brian didn’t pause, just walked straight to the back and up a short stairway. I followed him, and he was stripping next to the bed. He didn’t even look at me.

I hesitated. It’s not that I never tricked. I did, although not very often. I didn’t need hearts and flowers, but I was used to at least a little eye contact. He hadn’t looked at me once since we came in the door.

But right at that moment he turned around, his shirt off, his pants open, his feet bare. And I saw something in his eyes, something raw. I felt my breath catch, and my stomach clench, and I walked slowly towards him. His hands reached out for me, and I let him pull me into his arms, and kiss me.

**Brian’s POV**

When I turned around, I realized I’d lost him. He hadn’t so much as taken off his jacket, and he looked like he was about to run. And right at that moment, I didn’t want him to.

I don’t know what changed, but he started to walk towards me, and when he was a couple of feet away, instead of making him cross the last bit of distance, I reached out and pulled him into my arms.

He had the most beautiful mouth, soft and wide. I kissed him for a long time, his hands on the back of my neck, mine in his hair. He was warm, and in a few minutes he was naked. I’d thrown his jacket and shirt in the corner, and pushed his pants down around his feet.

He stepped out of them, and then he finished unfastening mine, and pushed them down. I saw him bite his lip when he saw my cock, but he didn’t say anything, just stepped back up against me, both of us naked now, skin touching everywhere.

I kissed him again. I pushed my tongue inside his mouth and licked his tongue, then pulled back and nibbled at his lips. He was rubbing his dick against my hip and moaning into my mouth. His hand dropped down between us, and he grasped my cock, making me groan.

I broke the contact between our mouths, and touched my forehead to his. “What was your name again?”

I saw hurt in his eyes, but just for a second. “Justin.”

I kissed him. “Justin. I want to eat your ass. And then I want to fuck it.”

He just stared at me, and he blushed. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d fucked a guy who blushed. I walked him backwards towards the bed, and pushed him down. He hesitated a second and rolled onto his stomach, and spread his thighs.

He had a beautiful ass, and from the way he looked at me over his shoulder, he knew it. But I didn’t say anything. I just smiled a little, and put my hand on the small of his back while I knelt behind him, between his spread legs. I kissed the back of his neck, and his shoulders, and he stretched and purred under my mouth. I licked every little bump in his spine, and let my tongue play in the hollows above his ass.

I finally let my hands rest on his cheeks, and slightly pulled them apart. I licked slowly down his crack, keeping him from pushing up off the bed, holding him flat. He was moaning and humping the mattress.

I let my tongue pass over his hole. I licked behind his balls, and then I licked his balls, gently pulling them back with one hand, and sucking on them. Then I let my tongue go back to his hole, and licked and nibbled at it. I worked my tongue inside, feeling how tight he was, and my cock jerked at the thought of being inside him.

He was rocking harder into the bed again, and I kept licking at his hole, fucking him with my tongue. He finally looked back at me again, and moaned to me to fuck him.

I got a condom off the nightstand and put it on, then filled my palm with lube. I rubbed it on my dick, then slowly finger fucked him until I thought I could slip in a second finger.

This time when he tried to get up on his knees I let him, let him push back on my hand and fuck himself on it. Then I put my hand on his back, holding him still, and pulled my fingers out.

I put my cock at his hole and pushed in. From the minute I saw him outside the hospital, I’d wanted this, wanted to slide my dick into something tight and wet. Wanted to see him naked and moaning under me on my bed. Wanted to use this constricted heat like white noise, to wipe my mind clean for a little while. But now that he was here, spread out, letting me in, all I could think about was how soft his skin was, what his lips had felt like when I kissed them, how the sound of his moans shot through me like lust.

I rocked myself deeper into him, knowing I was hitting his prostate from the way he cried out when I stroked across it. I held his hips and kept doing it, over and over, watching his fists clench the sheets and sweat break out across his back. I bent down and licked at it, then kissed him. Finally I rested my forehead on the damp skin between his shoulder blades, gripped his hips, and fucked him hard.

My face was wet with my sweat and his. He was slamming back into me, and I knew he was close to coming. I moved my hand under him, and the skin was tight on his cock. The head was wet, and I smeared the pre-come down the shaft while I let him fuck my fist.

He choked and clamped down on my cock with his ass, and I felt hot come on my hand under him. The contractions milked my orgasm out of me, and I pressed my whole face into his back and tried not to yell. It almost hurt, I came so hard, burning and spurting into the condom deep inside him.

I fell onto his back, and he fell down to the bed. My heart was pounding. I worked my hand out from under him, and the weight of all those hours without sleep, all the tension and fear, caught up with me. I pulled myself out of him, stripped off the condom, and dropped down again, my hand curling itself around his upper arm while I fell suddenly asleep.

**Justin’s POV**

I heard an unfamiliar phone ringing, and a man’s voice swearing. My mind was a perfect blank, and I almost fell back to sleep.

After a minute I remembered where I was, and rolled over. My ass was sore and my back was stiff.

Brian was on the phone, and he got out of bed and walked out of the bedroom, naked. I went into the bathroom and pissed. I could still hear him talking – actually shouting – in the other room. I looked speculatively at the shower, and decided if he could fuck me and pass out on my back, he could spare a little soap and water.

I was standing under the shower spray, letting the hot water ease the stiffness in my back, when he opened the door and got in with me.

“Was that the hospital? How’s your son?”

He gave me a weird look, which I couldn’t interpret, and then dumped half a bottle of shampoo on his hands. He didn’t use it on himself, though; he started washing my hair. It felt good. I let him.

My eyes were closed and the soap was running down my face and body. He held me under the water, kept moving his hands over my wet skin. I shook my head and opened my eyes, and looked down at his cock.

It was hanging there, half-hard. When I’d seen it the night before, I’d wanted it in my mouth, and I decided I’d waited long enough. I kissed my way down his wet body, tracing the curve of every one of his beautiful, lean muscles until I got to his pubes. I buried my face in them, and slid my hands around behind him, tucking them under the curve of his ass, at the tops of his thighs.

I licked at the head of his cock, and felt it moving and growing under my tongue. Brian had his hands in my hair, and I looked up through the water and steam. His face was tipped back, his eyes closed, and he was rocking gently against my lips.

I lapped at the sensitive spot under the rim of his dick, and then wrapped my lips around him and slid down slowly. He gave a sharp groan when he bumped the back of my throat. I changed my angle a little, opened my throat, and swallowed around him.

His fists clenched in my hair, and I started pumping my head up and down on him. I used my tongue and my lips and my throat, and after a few minutes, I lightly slapped at his thigh. He knew what I was telling him, and started to fuck my mouth, clutching me to him with his hands, while I deliberately swallowed around the head of his cock as it thrust deep into my throat.

I felt his come gushing down my throat and swallowed it all, then let him slide out of my mouth. I rested my face against his stomach for a minute, but he pulled me up and kissed me, deep and long. His hand slid down between our bodies, and closed on my cock. He slowly jerked me off until I came between us, the shower washing my come away.

I leaned on him. The water was still hot, and his hands were still moving on my skin. I was surprised, and tipped my face up to him, and he kissed me again. He was nuzzling my hair, face, and neck, and I got my arms up around him and just hung on. His hands were on my ass, and I felt his cock, still half-hard, against my thigh.

Something about the water and the feel of his hands made me feel like none of this was real. I let him kiss and stroke me, and after a few minutes, I felt my own cock stir again. He noticed, and I looked at his face and saw him smile.

The water started to get cooler, and he turned it off and pulled me out of the shower. He dried me with a towel, then dried himself. He gently dried my cock and thighs and ass. I was as hard as if I hadn’t already come twice in the last six hours. So was he.

He dragged me into the bedroom and pushed me down on the bed, and stopped me from rolling over. “I want to see your face.”

I just lay there, and let my bent knees fall apart. He folded his lips in, and lightly touched my inner thighs, and my balls. He took the lube, and wet two fingers, and gently eased them into me.

I put my hands up over my head, and lifted my head a little, to watch him. He was slowly fingering me, and I felt him start to touch and massage my prostate. I closed my eyes, and he whispered to me, “Watch.”

I opened them again. His face was rapt, watching his fingers move in and out of me, seeing me writhe against them while they kept a constant motion on my prostate.  “I could make you come like this.” He sounded breathless.

I cleared my throat, and blinked. “Yeah. You could. But I don’t want to. I want…” I groaned a little as his fingers moved a little harder inside me. “I want to come with your cock in my ass.”

He smiled, and for a minute he looked completely predatory. He picked up a condom from the bowl next to the bed, and pulled his fingers out of me. He ripped it open, and rolled it down his dick slowly. He stretched himself over me, the muscles in his arms and chest straining. I let my hands run up and down his biceps, and lifted my legs up and wrapped them around his waist.

He pressed into me, so slowly I wanted to scream. I lifted up, wrapping my legs tighter and straining towards him, my fingers gripping his arms. He gave a hoarse moan, and pushed all the way in.

I grabbed him around his neck, and started rocking myself up, meeting every thrust he made into me. My cock was crushed between us, and I felt it leaking on the hard muscles of his stomach. He fucked me faster and faster, and I felt a burn and ache deep inside, and before I even knew it was starting, I was coming, spreading wet heat between us.

He froze on top of me, and dropped his face down and buried it in my neck. I held him while he came, and when he finally stopped jerking against me, I let my legs fall down.

He stayed frozen there for a minute, then reached down and held the condom while he pulled out. It hurt a little. He rolled off me, and got up. Without saying anything, he handed me the towel he’d used to dry me, and went back into the bathroom.

I lay on the bed, feeling shaken, but after a few minutes, I got up, found my clothes, and got dressed.

I went out of the bedroom, but before I could even remember exactly where the door was, he was there. “Can I drop you somewhere?” He wasn’t looking at me. “I’m going to the hospital.”

I remembered his little boy then. “No, I’m going to walk up to Liberty Avenue and get some breakfast.”

He nodded. “Go to the Liberty Diner. They have a great breakfast, if you like fat and carbs.”

I smiled. “That’s my favorite food group.”

He pulled the door open, and I walked out. I hesitated, then went down the stairs. He caught up with me at the bottom. “Are you sure I can’t drop you? I don’t have to be there for half an hour, I have time.”

I shook my head. “I’d rather just go. I hope your son’s okay.”

“Thanks.” He didn’t say anything more, so I turned and walked down the street.

When I got home, Daphne was on the phone. I went into my room and crawled into bed, and if she came and checked on me later, I slept through it.

It was dark when I woke up. I went out into the kitchen, and Daphne was there with Bill and Mark, two other gay guys from work. They were sitting at the table, laughing and joking. I made coffee and joined them.

Mark looked at me. “So, we heard you fucked the hunky doctor.”

Daphne was giggling. I glared at her. “It was the other way around.”

The three of them looked at each other. I drank more coffee. “What?”

Daphne fixed me with a stern eye. “Dish.”

I shrugged. “Let me wake up first.” The truth was, for some reason I didn’t want to talk about it.

I listened to them gossip for a while, not really paying attention until I heard them talking about the little boy we’d brought in the night before. Brian’s son. “What was that?”

Daphne looked at me. “Did you hear any of this?”

I shook my head. “Hear what?”

She sighed. “It turns out his bone shattered so much because he had a bone tumor. I’m friends with one of the nurses, she called a little while ago. And no, I did not tell her you went home with Dr. Brian.”

I wondered if Brian had known about his son this morning, if that was what the phone call was about. I decided I needed a shower. While I was in my room getting dressed, Daph knocked on the door and stuck her head in. “Want to come to Woody’s with us?”

“God, you’re such a fag hag.”

She smirked. “You love me.”

I smiled at her. “It’s true. Now get out.”

The four of us went to Woody’s, and were standing at the bar with our drinks. Daphne was trying something pink and sophisticated, and I was drinking a beer. I looked out at the crowd, and almost dropped the bottle when I saw Brian, playing pool with a dark haired man.

Daphne saw him, too. “You should go say hi.”

I shook my head. “I don’t think so.”

“How come?”

I sighed. “It’s hard to explain.”

She uncharacteristically didn’t say anything for a while.  But a few minutes later, when Bill and Mark were engrossed in talking to each other, she slid closer to me. “Well, at least tell me, was he good?”

I took a swallow of my beer. “Godlike.”

She stared at my face. “Wow.”

I nodded.

“You could go over and say hi.”

I snorted. “Yeah, I’m sure he’d love that.”

“I don’t understand how you can have sex with someone and then just act like you’ve never even met them.” She frowned into her drink.

“You just can.” But I set my beer down on the bar. “I think I’ll go ask how his kid is, though.” Daphne bit her lip, but just nodded. I wasn’t sure if she was laughing at me, or worried.

I walked up to Brian and said hi. He looked at me, obviously about to give me the “trick who doesn’t know when to leave brush-off.” I just smiled blandly. “I was wondering how your little boy is.” I didn’t add “because there are reasons I’d talk to you other than to harass you about having fucked me last night, asshole.” Maybe he heard it anyway, because the disdainful look vanished from his eyes.

Brian took a swallow of his beer. “He’s doing okay. Have you heard anything more about him, or …?”

“I heard it turned out he had a bone tumor in that leg. How’s he doing?”

Brian stared at me for a long time, then took another drink, and shrugged. “He doesn’t really understand what’s going on. He’s doing pretty well. We’ll know more in a few days.” He sounded like he was reciting something he’d memorized.

I didn’t say anything. My mind felt oddly blank, and Brian’s eyes changed again. I felt that strange sensation I’d felt the night before, the pull to touch him, or be touched by him.

I didn’t move. I didn’t blink.

Brian folded his lips in for a second, than grabbed my arm and pulled me towards the door. I went with him.

He wasn’t holding my hand. His fingers were closed on my forearm, and he pulled me into the alley next to the bar. It was cold that night, but there were other guys there, although I couldn’t really see them in the darkness.

Brian pulled me into his arms, and I felt his lips touch mine at the exact moment my body fitted against his. His cock pressed into my hip, and I felt mine throbbing against his thigh. His arms were wrapped all the way around me.

I thought he was going to crawl into my mouth. His tongue was sweeping around it, touching my teeth and the insides of my lips, and my gums, and then he started stroking my tongue with his. I was holding his shoulders, my arms crushed against me. He backed me up until I was against the wall. His hands were on my shoulders, turning me around. I resisted him. I wasn’t getting fucked against a wall. In winter. By a guy I barely knew. “Brian.”

His mouth was on the back of my neck, and I felt his hands unbuttoning my jeans. I said his name again. “Brian.” But I let my head fall forward under the heat of his lips. There was electricity shooting out from where his mouth was touching my skin, behind my ears, down under the collar of my shirt.

I let him turn me the rest of the way around. I let him open my pants. I didn’t even notice the cold air.

I heard him opening his pants, and than a second later, I felt a finger at my ass, wet with lube. I almost laughed at how adept he was at this, until his finger pressing inside me, stroking on my prostate, stopped me from thinking about anything.

His mouth left my neck, and I turned my head towards him, wanting it back. He was ripping a condom open with his teeth, and I remembered the night before at his loft. I felt my ass clench around his finger, and my cock jerk. He looked at me, and I saw him smirk a little.

He was kissing me again, the side of my face and the back of my neck, kissing my hair and my mouth. I felt dizzy and hot. I forgot it was winter, and the wall in front of me was icy. Everywhere his body touched me was hot, and he was touching me everywhere he could, stroking me inside until I was begging him to fuck me. I pushed back on his finger and moaned his name, and he pulled it out.

He pressed the head of his cock against my hole, and I felt myself tighten. Just as I opened up again, he pushed in, just the head, stretching me, hurting a little. I groaned and spread my legs more, feeling him bending his knees to stay with me. He pushed in a little more, and then a little more, until his cock was nudging my prostate.

The feeling was incredible, his thighs on the backs of mine, his mouth still kissing me everywhere he could reach. He reached around me and started stroking my cock, his hand wet with lube. I let my head fall back on his shoulder, holding myself off the wall with my hands. I started to come, every sensation in my body coalescing into one spot deep inside my ass, spreading out through my balls and out my dick, pulsing onto his hand and the wall.

My ass clenching on his dick must have finished him off, because he pulled my hips into him, hard, and I felt his teeth close on the skin where my neck joined my shoulder. I reached back and up with my hand, touched his face, and moaned. He was still coming inside me, shuddering, biting me, kissing me.

Finally it was over. I felt everything stand still for a minute, his heart beating against my back, the heat still between us. And then he stepped away, pulling out of me, straightening his legs. I felt him pulling my jeans back up, and I fastened them with shaking hands. I turned around, and he was walking away, back out to the street. I leaned against the wall, feeling every cold brick against my back. I remembered then why I didn’t usually do this. Why I didn’t like to feel like someone’s anonymous fuck.

After a while I realized I was freezing, and went back inside to find Daphne. Brian was gone.


	2. Pulse Point, Chapter 2

**Pulse Point, Chapter Two**  
By Xie

**Brian's POV**

Lindsay had her arms wrapped so tightly around herself her knuckles were white. I leaned in the doorway, listening to the soothing tone of the pediatric oncologist’s voice, designed to lull parents into a false sense of security.

I’d never been very good at that voice.

Melanie’s hand was flat on Lindsay’s back, making comforting circles. Every time she moved her hand, her wedding ring glinted with light from one of the tiny halogen spotlights aimed at the diplomas on the wall. I focused on the little flicker it made, and waited for someone other than Dr. Bordner to start talking.

She ended her speech on an encouraging note. “Did you have any questions?”

Lindsay looked at me, and even Melanie turned around and faced me. I stood up straight and cleared my throat. “Lindz?”

“Why do we have to start today? Wouldn’t it be better for him to come home for a while, recover from the shooting and the surgery he’s already had?” Lindsay was still gripping herself tightly, but her voice was calm.

I hated it when people asked me something I’d just told them, but maybe Lindsay had the same white noise in her head I did. I let Bordner answer.

“We usually do chemo before surgery, because it’s associated with an easier surgery and a better long-term outcome. But in Gus’ case, it’s even more essential, because the bullet shattered his bone, including the tumor, and it’s possible the cancer could have metastasized then. The aggressive pre-surgery course of chemo is designed to kill any cancer cells in his body.”

I wanted to rub my aching forehead, but instead I focused on Lindsay’s eyes, trying to see if she heard what the doctor was telling her. I hoped not.

Bordner looked at me. “Dr. Kinney, did you want to ask anything?”

I shook my head and felt my lip turn inward.

Melanie spoke up for the first time. “You said the odds were somewhere between 60 and 85 percent. That’s a pretty wide range.”

I fought the urge to walk out of the room and cleared my throat again. “Because the bone shattered, we can’t know if Gus’ case is more like a tumor that’s already metastasized, or where it hasn’t.”

Bordner picked up from there. She was smooth. “Exactly. I feel very optimistic about Gus’ prognosis, because these kinds of tumors, when caught early, respond very well to highly aggressive therapy. The bullet wound puts a little more of a question mark on that, but then again, it’s the reason we caught it early. I see no reason at this point to be pessimistic.”

Melanie snorted, and looked at me for a second, but didn’t say anything.

I walked out into the hall, leaving Lindsay talking in a low voice with Bordner. Melanie followed me out.

“Is she full of shit about his chances?”

I looked at her. “She’s putting everything in the best possible light. That’s what oncologists do. And pediatricians. But it’s not bullshit.”

Melanie stared at me for a while, then gave a short nod and went back in the office. I leaned against the wall, waiting.

“Brian?” That was a voice I didn’t expect to hear.

“Mikey. What the fuck are you doing here?”

Michael tried to smile, but he didn’t get very far. “Ben and I are taking JR while Gus has his chemo.” He ignored all my body language and looped his right arm around my neck and kissed my cheek. “Ben’s in with Gus right now, and when Mel and Lindz come back, we’re going by my mom’s and picking JR up.”

“Wheels within wheels.” I almost laughed at the blank look on Michael’s face. “Is Gus awake?”

Michael shook his head. “No, he was asleep when I left. Are you done here, did you want to go down?”

I glanced in the office, and saw Lindsay crying, Bordner and Melanie patting her consolingly. “Sure, let’s go.”

When we got to Gus’ room, Ben stood up. He didn’t hug me, not having Michael’s two decades of practice at ignoring my body language, but he gave me a sympathetic smile. “He hasn’t woken up.”

I went and stood next to the bed, and smoothed Gus’ hair back from his forehead. I tried not to think about what would happen when it started falling out. I tried not to think at all.

And then my pager went off.

Justin’s POV

Daphne looked at me over the top of her milkshake. “I still cannot believe you let him fuck you in the alley when it was 30 degrees out.”

I took a swallow of my coffee, and set it in the cup holder on the dashboard. “Tell me about it.”

“He must be really hot. Tell ME about it.”

I shook my head. “He’s an asshole.” I ate a French fry. “Incredibly hot. But an asshole.”

“All surgeons are assholes. You know that.”

“On the scale of surgeons who are assholes, Dr. Brian Kinney is off the chart.”

“I’ll never understand you.”

I looked at her. Daphne’d known me since I was five years old. I’d lived with her since I was 17. If she didn’t understand me, no one did. “Sure you do.”

“What did he say, drop your pants, and you did? I mean, seriously, Justin!”

I smiled and took another sip of coffee. “He didn’t say anything. Not even that.”

“I don’t get it.” She really did look confused.

I shrugged. “I wanted his dick in my ass. At the moment, that seemed to be enough.”

“At the moment?”

“Yeah, afterwards, something like, hey, see you around, would have been nice. He just walked away.”

“What an asshole.”

I nodded. “Exactly.”

She sighed, and picked up her burger and took a bite. “You like him, don’t you? You always get all cynical and jaded when you’re majorly crushing on a guy.” She wiped ketchup that had spilled out of the corner of her mouth.

It was my turn to sigh and take a bite of my burger. “No.”

She looked at me, chewing.

I frowned at her, and swallowed. “I don’t know. But even if I do, I’m done with guys who have issues.” I put down the burger bag and wiped my hands with a napkin.

Daphne choked on her burger, and then laughed. “Hi, have we met? I’m Daphne, your best friend since kindergarten.”

I was about to argue with her – pointlessly, since she was right, although I’d never tell her that – when the radio buzzed into life. “Gunshots fired, multiple victims at the Penn Avenue McDonald’s in the Strip.”

I was slamming our food back into bags and holding our drinks while Daphne hit the lights and sirens. But before we were even halfway to the scene, the radio crackled again, diverting us to a supermarket parking lot less than two blocks away. I looked at Daphne, and she was biting her lip. Sounded like the shooters were back.

We were the first ambulance on the scene at the supermarket, and the cops hadn’t even gotten control of the crowd yet. People were screaming and milling around, and it took a few minutes to figure out who the victims were. There were three dead, and one woman with a bullet in the abdomen. She told us she was seven months pregnant.

I got a line in and gave her oxygen while Daphne did a fast triage on the other victims. By the time she was done, two other ambulances had gotten there, and we gently moved our victim to the back of the rig. Daphne rode with her and I drove, but we both knew she was miscarrying before we got out of the parking lot.

She knew it too, and started keening almost in time with the siren as I gritted my teeth and drove down the wet street.

We barely had time to drop her off before we got called out again, back to the original scene. Things were much calmer this time, and we transported an elderly man and his frightened daughter to the hospital. I was strapping our equipment back in place while Daphne talked to someone near the ambulance bay, when another call came over the radio. I hollered for Daphne and we went back out.

Brian’s POV

My face was resting on the cool metal door of my locker. My eyes were gritty and burning, and I wanted to sleep for a week. I took a deep breath and walked to the sink on the other side of the room, and sluiced my face down with cold water, letting it splash into my hair and run down my chest. I shook my head, and droplets sprayed on the mirror and wall.

It had been a brutal nineteen hours in the OR, and every surgeon on staff had been there, digging for bullets and trying to stitch shredded organs and skin back together. I was used to a certain amount of bad outcomes. Trauma wasn’t where you worked when you wanted to stack the odds in your favor. But I’d lost three in a row last night, and all I wanted right now was a drink and dead sleep.

I dried my face with a towel, put on a clean shirt, and went up to Gus’ room. He’d had his first course of chemo while I was trying to keep some other kid’s mother from bleeding to death. Unsuccessfully.

I walked into Gus’ room. Lindsay had him over on her bed near the window. He wasn’t on any monitoring equipment, just hooked up to IVs, and his eyes were red, either from crying, or puking, or both.

When I sat down, he burrowed into me, and I hugged him. “Hey, Gus. Not feeling too good?” He shook his head, but didn’t say anything. His leg was in a cast, and it was sticking straight out in front of him.

Lindsay took a deep breath, and I leaned across Gus, wrapping an arm around her shoulder. She smiled a little at me, but there were tears in her eyes. “I told him you had an emergency.”

I knew from the warning look on her face she’d heard the shooters had hit again, but didn’t want Gus to know. “How did it go?”

“It was fine, until a few hours after he had the first round, when he started puking. They’d given him drugs to prevent nausea and vomiting, and some different ones after, but they don’t seem to have helped.”

I sighed. Just then Gus started to whimper, and Lindsay grabbed for the basin and held it out for him. I kept my hand on his back while he spewed bile in the bowl.

Melanie walked in, two Starbucks cups in her hand. She stopped when she saw me. “I didn’t get you one, Brian. I can go to the cafeteria…”

I shook my head. “I’m okay.”

Lindsay looked at me, frowning. “Brian, you’ve been up all night.”

I took her coffee out of her hand, and took a sip, and handed it back to her. “I’m up all night pretty much every night. I don’t need much sleep.”

Melanie snorted, but Lindsay gave her a look and she didn’t say anything. Gus had fallen asleep with his head on my leg, and I didn’t want to move, so I just leaned back, letting myself drift into half-sleep, Melanie and Lindsay’s voices washing over me like rain falling outside the windows.

Gus woke up, and this time I grabbed the basin, and got it under his face just in time. He started crying when he was done, and Melanie took the basin and went to dump it while Lindsay pulled him into her lap.

Melanie came back, the basin clean. “Why don’t you get some sleep, Brian?”

I looked at her. She’d been on her best behavior with me, probably because Lindsay was at the breaking point. I nodded.

“And eat something, Brian.” It was Lindsay, Gus across her lap, sleeping again.

I ran my hand over her hair. “After I sleep.”

She nodded, and I went home to a glass of scotch, a shower, and clean sheets.

I woke up at noon, and took a piss. I contemplated going back to bed, but my sleep had been full of dreams, and I showered again instead. I looked in the refrigerator, but Evian and poppers didn’t sound like the nourishing breakfast Lindsay’d had in mind, so I headed to the diner.

I walked in the door, and stopped when I saw Justin sitting at the counter. He wasn’t in uniform, just wearing a baggy sweater and jeans, a messenger bag lying on the floor at his feet.

I walked over and sat next to him. “Hey.”

He must have seen me come in before I noticed him, because he didn’t turn his head. “Hey.”

He took a swallow of his coffee. I raised an eyebrow. “You’re not working today?”

He still didn’t look at me, just drank some more coffee. “I have a class.”

“You’re in school?” I sounded surprised.

He finally glanced at me. “Yeah. I go to the Pittsburgh Institute of Fine Arts, I’m working on my MFA.”

I sat back. “A fine artist who’s a paramedic?”

He shrugged. “I have to pay the tuition somehow.”

“How old are you, anyway? You look fifteen.”

He turned to face me then, and he looked pissed. Which was the point. He didn’t really look fifteen. He looked eighteen.

“Really? Do you make a habit of fucking fifteen year olds?”

I snorted. “I kind of figured you weren’t a moonlighting high school kid. How old are you?”

“Twenty-three. How old are you?” And he looked at me, almost smirking.

I gestured to the waitress to bring me some coffee, and turned back to Justin. “I’m thirty-five.”

He went back to his coffee.

Betty brought my coffee, and I took a sip. He was pretending not to remember I was there, and I was amused at his feigned indifference. “So, what kind of fine art do you do?”

That sideways glance again. “I paint. And do some manipulated images, computer stuff, but not graphic design.”

“I do a little collecting.” I waited to see what he’d say to that.

“I noticed you had a few nice pieces at your place.” Like he spent any time looking at anything in the loft besides my dick.

I leaned in close to him, and let my mouth brush his ear. He flushed, but didn’t move one inch closer to me. “Why don’t you come back and take a closer look now?”

He shook his head. “I told you, I have a class.”

I chuckled. “Well, I have six hours until I have to be at the hospital.”

Justin turned around then, and faced me. His eyes looked right into mine. “Fuck off, Brian.”

I almost laughed, but I wanted to get into his ass again, and knew that wasn’t the way. “You loved it.”

“You’re great in bed.” He shrugged. “It’s out of bed that’s the problem.”

I did laugh then. “What the fuck does that mean?”

“It means I don’t like being treated like shit as soon as you’ve gotten off.”

Oh god. Another romantic. “I’m not into the whole love and romance thing, Justin. That’s not who I am. I don’t believe in love. I believe in fucking.”

Now it was Justin who laughed. “Are those the only two choices?” He got up, threw a couple of dollars on the counter, and grabbed his bag and jacket from the floor. “No thanks, to both.” And he walked out of the diner.

I sat at the counter for a minute, and then heard the sound of applause behind me. I didn’t look towards the sound, just took a sip of my coffee and set it down. “Theodore. Emmett.”

Ted walked over and took the seat Justin had just vacated. “Thank you. Really, Brian, thank you. I’ve never seen the Great God Kinney shot down before, and by a teenaged twink. I’ll be looking for the sun to set in the east tonight.”

I didn’t look at him, or at Emmett when he took the seat on the other side and started his commentary. “Yes, it’s a day that will live on in history, that will be the cause of little children gathering in the streets to laugh and point, the day Brian Kinney got told to fuck off by a golden haired boy who isn’t even old enough to shave yet.”

“He’s 23.” I swallowed another mouthful of coffee before something else slipped out.

Ted laughed. “Twenty-three? Did he find the fountain of youth, and refuse to tell you where?”

Betty came over, pencil poised over her notepad. I gave her my order, and sat there and let Ted and Emmett dissect my many character flaws and outline their joy at my supposed humiliation, while I drank coffee and waited for my food.

I realized they’d stopped talking, and glanced at Emmett. He usually cracked first.

He did. His face got all moony. “How’s Gus?”

I shrugged.

That meant it was Ted’s turn. “Are you going to see him?”

Betty set my plate down, and I tried to eat some of my egg white omelet. I shrugged again.

Emmett looked across me at Ted. “That means yes.”

“I know, I took remedial Kinney-speak last summer, when I started working at the hospital.”

Emmett tilted his head to one side. “In the job Brian got you.”

“Right.”

“So maybe we shouldn’t tell everyone about the Twink Who Shot Him Down, out of, you know, respect.”

Ted frowned. “Hmmm. Good point. What do you think, Bri?”

I put down my fork, threw a ten on the counter, and got off the stool. “I think both of you should do or say whatever the fuck you want. And get lives.”

I heard Emmett saying goodbye while I went out the door. Ted was laughing.

Justin’s POV

I was still mentally telling Brian off while I sat in class. When my professor asked me a question, it took me a few seconds to even realize I needed to ask him to repeat it. After class, I went to the studio building and let myself into my workspace. When I started slamming my paints around, I stopped and made myself calm down. I had little enough time to paint, and I wasn’t going to waste it yelling at someone who wasn’t there.

I worked until it was dark, and then cleaned up. I was slinging my bag over my shoulder when my cell phone rang.

“You ready?” It was Daphne.

“Yeah, want to pick me up?”

“I’m outside. Hurry up, we can eat before our shift starts.”

When we walked into the diner, Debbie was standing with her back to the door, watching the television. Daphne and I sat at a booth, and the bus boy brought us coffee. I had never seen the television on before, although it had been sitting in the corner as long as Daphne and I had been coming here.

“Watching your soaps, Deb?” It was an irate customer from a seat near the front door.

Debbie turned around. “Don’t worry, hon, I’ll be spitting in your food, but I don’t have anything catching.” She started to turn back to the television, and caught sight of Daphne and me. “Sunshine! Daphne!”

I smiled at her. She’d started calling me Sunshine the first time I’d come in with Daphne. Now that I was working in Pittsburgh and we came in all the time, it was starting to make the place feel like home.

She came over to our table, pad in hand. “So, you two being careful out there? It’s fucking terrifying.” I glanced at the TV screen, where a scrolling notice at the bottom told us how many total people had been killed during the two shooting rampages. I couldn’t hear what the newscasters were saying.

Daphne looked behind her at the TV, then back at Debbie. “There haven’t been more shootings, have there?”

Debbie shook her head. “No, and I’d know, my husband – well, not my husband because we’re not married…”

“Because your son and his partner can’t get married.” Daphne and I said it together.

“Well, at least I know you two are listening. Anyway, Carl is a cop and he said they’re worried there’ll be more shootings. They have no clues, no leads, no ideas.”

Daphne shook her head. “This is crazy. We’ve brought in so many people – that woman who lost her baby, and that little boy with the shot up leg.”

Debbie looked at Daphne. “Little boy with a shot up leg? You two brought in Gus? Lindsay and Mel’s Gus?”

We looked at each other, then Daphne frowned. “Dr. Kinney’s little boy, do you know him?”

Debbie’s face looked kind of soft and frowning at the same time. “Do I know ‘Dr. Kinney’? I’ve known him since I had to remind him to do his homework. He practically grew up at my house. He’s my son Michael’s best friend, he’s like a fucking son to me. When I’m not wanting to kick his fucking ass.”

“You too?” But I just mumbled it.

Daphne kicked me under the table, and Debbie raised her eyebrows. “Sounds like you know him, too, Sunshine.”

She sat down next to Daphne, and laid her hand over hers. “Tell your partner here to stay away from Brian. He’s a heartbreaker.”

Daphne shook her head. “You tell him. He stopped listening to me when we were in junior high.”

“Are you listening, Sunshine?” And she reached across the table and smacked my face lightly.

“You don’t need to tell me. I told him to fuck off.”

Daphne sighed, and Debbie looked at me strangely. “ _You_ told _him_ to fuck off?”

I nodded. Debbie just kept giving me that look. “Huh. Okay.” She shook her head, her big earrings jangling. “Just take care of yourselves out there. And since you’re the ones who brought in Gus, who is almost but not quite my grandson, your dinner’s on the house.”

We finished our dinner and left Debbie a huge tip, and then went to pick up the rig. When we got to the dispatch center, we picked up something else, too: bulletproof vests. We carried them outside with us, and I stood in the snow next to the rig, looking at mine. Daphne shrugged and climbed into the driver’s seat, throwing the vest in the back. I got in, and put mine at my feet.

It was a boring night, and we had only one hour left of it when I felt my eyes getting heavy. Daphne stopped in front of an all night convenience store to get coffee. I used the bathroom, and saw her through the glass door, waiting for me out front.

When I got outside, Daphne handed me my coffee, and gestured at the window of the gift shop next door. “When they open, we should get one of these teddy bears with the balloons, and go see Gus.”

I sipped my coffee. “Why would we want to do that, exactly?”

She gave an exasperated huff. “He’s a hurt little boy with cancer, and we’re the team that brought him in. Don’t you think it would be nice to go see how he’s doing? Maybe it would make him happy.”

I stared in the window, not really looking at the stuffed animal display. “You’re my best friend. You’re supposed to try to keep me out of trouble, and advise me against seeing guys who treat me like shit, even if they’re hot and great in bed.”

“Justin, you really like him.” She frowned. “It’s been a long time since you really liked anyone.”

I shook my head. “We just met. I don’t even know him.”

She rolled her eyes. “It doesn’t matter. Let’s bring the kid some balloons after our shift tomorrow. Brian probably won’t even be there.”

I groaned. “I can’t believe we have another shift in ten hours.”

She shrugged. “It’s better than those fucking 24 hour shifts at MedFlash.”

I nodded, and we got back in the rig and waited for our next call.

Brian’s POV

I was standing in the hall outside Gus’ room, watching him sleep. I rubbed the back of my neck, and blinked my gritty eyes a few times.

He just kept sleeping. He looked like one of the little kids in the television ads for children’s cancer research, with his hair gone and dark circles under his eyes. Lindsay had gone to Michael’s to see JR, and Melanie was sitting next to Gus’s bed, her laptop on her legs. But she didn’t take her eyes off Gus.

I turned and went back to the trauma department without going in.

An hour later, I was trying to keep someone alive long enough for the guys from cardiac and orthopedic to do the fancy stuff. After that, he was their problem. Cynthia was standing next to me, her eyes tired over her mask.

I snapped out an order for more suction, got a report from the anesthesiologist, and finally got the bleeding stopped. I took a deep breath. “Okay, that’ll do it. Tell them to come in.”

I left the room while the second team swarmed in, and Cynthia followed me out of the OR. She watched me strip off my cap, mask and gown, and ran a hand through her hair after pulling her cap off. “Have you seen Gus?”

I nodded. “He was asleep.”

She threw her gown in the bin. “I went up today, before I started. He was awake, but they had him all doped up on antiemetics.”

“Which make him groggy and confused without doing shit for the puking.” I slammed the lid of the bin.

She gave a tired smile. “Yeah. That’s why we love our jobs.”

I groaned. “I’ll go up now. Maybe he’s awake.”

Cynthia just nodded, and I went upstairs. I was still ten feet from his room when I heard a sound I almost didn’t recognize, it had been so long since I’d heard it: Gus laughing.

The first thing I saw when I stood in the door was a huge bunch of balloons floating around, multi-colored streamers trailing. Then I looked at the bed, and blinked my eyes three times before I could believe what I was seeing. Justin was sitting next to Gus, a big sketchpad open in front of them. They were laughing.

“Brian!” Lindsay came over and hugged me.

Gus squealed, “Daddy!” I smiled at him over Lindsay’s shoulder.

“Brian, this is Justin and Daphne, they’re the paramedic team who brought Gus in. Guys, this is Gus’ father, Brian.” Lindsay sounded happy.

Daphne smiled at me, her nose wrinkling. “Hi.”

I smiled at her. “Hello. Thanks for taking care of Gus.” And I turned to look at Justin.

He was tearing pages out of his sketchpad and talking to Gus quietly, and he barely looked at me. He stood up. “I need to go.” He leaned down and gave Gus a hug, and picked up his sketchpad. “I’ll draw you something else next time.”

Gus looked at him, his head tilted to the side. “You’ll come back?”

Justin smiled, and it lit up his whole face. “I promise.”

He glanced at Daphne, said goodbye to Lindsay, and was out the door in ten seconds flat. I almost laughed.

I started towards Gus’ bed, but Lindsay gave me a narrow-eyed look. “Brian? Could I talk to you outside for a minute?”

I contemplated saying no, but my track record for turning Lindsay down wasn’t the greatest, and trying was usually a waste of time. I nodded. We went out into the hall and she turned to face me, arms crossed.

“You fucked him.”

I sighed. “Probably, but to whom are you referring, specifically?”

She glared at me. “Justin.”

I didn’t answer her.

“Oh, Brian. Gus loved him. Go find him, make sure he comes back.”

I looked at her in shock. “Chase after him?”

“Brian.”

I shook my head, but somehow, five minutes later, after nothing more than a quick “hello” to Gus, I found myself in the parking lot. I saw Justin’s blond head near one of the rigs in the ambulance bay, and walked over slowly.

Daphne was standing at the back, and looked at me with open curiosity when I passed her. I smiled, my best smile, and she grinned back.

Justin had his back to me, and was putting something dark on the floor of the passenger side of the ambulance. “Justin?”

He whipped around, surprise on his face. “Yeah?”

I felt my lower lip turn in, and I shoved my hand through my hair. “Thanks for coming to see Gus. He wants to be a paramedic when he grows up now.”

Justin laughed. “Not a great career move. Tell him to be a doctor like his daddy, or a lawyer like his mom.”

I smiled. “You tell him.”

Justin looked at me for a while, and then nodded. “I will.”

I cleared my throat, and felt both my lips turning inward. “Thanks.”

Justin just stared at me, and I suddenly realized I couldn’t look away. I just stood there like a teenager, until Justin finally dropped his eyes. He was starting to blush, just like he had the first night. I smiled.

Daphne slammed the back doors, and called out, “All set. We have to drop off the vests. Do you have yours?”

Justin reached in the rig and pulled out what I now saw was a bulletproof vest. I’d never seen any of the paramedics at this hospital wearing them before. He saw my surprise. “New thing, because of those shooters.”

I lifted an eyebrow. “They think they’ll hit again?”

Daphne was standing next to us, her vest in her hand. “They think it could happen. They haven’t caught the guys.”

I thought about that for a minute. “Be careful.”

Daphne smiled at me, her eyes looking at me in a very irritatingly knowing way. “We’re always careful.”

Justin slammed the ambulance door, laid the vest over his arm, and headed for the dispatch center on the other side of the complex. Daphne gave me a big grin and waved before she followed him.

Justin’s POV

When I woke up the next morning, the sun was out, glaring off the ice and snow on the side of the road. Lots of accidents on days like this, but I wasn’t working until the next day. Today, I was working in my studio.

I walked past the diner before going in, trying to see if Brian was there. He wasn’t, so I shoved open the door and sat at the counter, sliding my jacket off and dumping it on top of my bag on the floor.

“Sunshine!” Debbie came up, smiling. “Still in one piece?”

I smiled. “Yeah. And in severe caffeine withdrawal.” I nodded at her coffee pot, and she turned my cup over and filled it.

I heard the door opening, and felt the cold air rush in, and Debbie mumbled “Shit” under her breath. I looked up at the man who was standing next to me. And for some completely inexplicable reason, I smiled.

He didn’t respond at first. Then his lips quirked a little, and then he was smiling back at me.

“Shit.” It was Debbie, and this time it wasn’t under her breath.

Brian glanced at her. “Shit? I know the food’s bad, Deb, but… shit?”

“Ha ha. Sit down. One fat-free, calorie-free, flavor-free breakfast coming right up.” She smiled at me. “What can I get you, Sunshine? You can’t start your day on coffee alone.”

I ordered bacon and eggs, and after she walked away, I couldn’t stop myself from glancing at Brian.

He tipped his head to the side, which made him look disturbingly like Gus. “Sunshine?”

I shrugged. “She started calling me that the first time I came in here. I have no idea why.”

His lips quirked again. “I think it’s your smile.” He touched my lips with his fingertip, and I jerked back like his finger burned me. Then I blushed again.

He slid onto the stool, and stirred about ten pounds of sugar into his coffee. “Do you have a class today?”

I shook my head. “I’m working in my studio.”

Brian shifted to face me, and took a sip of his coffee. “I’d love to see your work.”

I hesitated. I’d had to share an open workspace until I got into the graduate program. I was used to people tramping in and out of my studio all the time. I just wasn’t sure if I wanted Brian there. I had a feeling the memory of him being there would be somewhat distracting, later on.

I started to tell him no. “Okay. Today?”

He almost seemed surprised, but then I decided I was imagining it.

Brian smiled, and started to say something, but Debbie set our plates in front of us. “Here you go, boys.” She stood there watching while we ate. “So, Brian, don’t be a shit to Sunshine here.”

I would have expected Brian to get angry, but he just smiled at Debbie. “Why, Debbie. Who could be a shit to Justin?”

She snorted and walked away. I was blushing, and when Brian lifted an eyebrow at me, I blushed harder. “I never said anything to her…”

Brian laughed. “Don’t worry. Nagging me is Deb’s default setting. She’s the mom I never had.”

I looked down at my plate. “Your mom died?”

“Tragically, no.”

I looked at him, and then gave a short laugh. Even to me it sounded bitter. “Same here.”

Brian smiled at me, and somehow it was the sweetest smile I’d ever seen on his face. “That’s why I made sure my son had two mothers.”

I laughed.

After we ate, we walked down the street towards Brian’s car. I hadn’t really gotten a good look at it the first night. “What is this?”

He rolled his eyes. “It’s a ’71 Corvette Stingray, god, what kind of red-blooded American male are you?”

I shrugged. “The kind who’s never had a car of his own.”

Brian unlocked the door and opened it for me. I slid in, holding my bag on my lap. There wasn’t anywhere else to put it.

He parked in the lot, and I took him back to my studio. I slid the door open, and he walked in, and stood there.

The sun was pouring in the far window. He walked over to my easel first, but the painting wasn’t even half done. I pulled a few canvases out from where they were leaning on the wall, and let him look at them while I got out my paints and got ready to work.

I finally looked at him. He had a soft expression on his face. He saw me looking at him, and he blinked.

We stood there looking at each other, and I felt the same thing I’d felt the first night. It was a feeling I’d never had before, but it felt totally familiar at the same time. It felt warm, and a little scary.

He cleared his throat. “You’re good.”

I looked down at my hands, and realized I was holding my brushes tightly in my right fist. “Thanks.”

He walked up to me, and put his hands on my upper arms. I didn’t move. “Really good. They’re beautiful.”

I really thought I should say something, but my mind was blank.

He tightened his grip on my arms, and bent down and brushed his lips across mine. I put my arms up around his neck, and let my brushes fall to the floor behind him.

Brian kissed me with his mouth closed, his lips warm and dry. I forgot everything I’d ever known about kissing, and just hung onto him. I finally opened my mouth under his, wanting more, wanting his tongue and his teeth. He thrust his tongue into my mouth and I heard my own moans, heard him breathing hard.

His hands were clenching painfully hard on the back of my neck, closing on fists full of my hair. I sucked on his tongue, and ran my tongue under his, licking at his teeth and the inside of his lips. He broke his mouth away from mine, and kissed my face and jaw. I felt him pull me tight against him, and I went up on my toes while he bent his knees.

My head fell back while he kissed my throat, and he straightened his legs, lifting me off the floor. He was saying something against my skin, but I didn’t know what it was.

He let me slide down his body until I was standing on my feet again, my face pressed into his chest. His hands were back in my hair, and I could feel his heart hammering against my forehead.

Brian took a deep breath, and I looked up at him. He smiled at me, and I felt myself smile back. His eyes looked darker than I’d ever seen them, and he bit his lip for just a second. “I should let you get your work done.”

I nodded. “Yeah.”

Brian trailed his fingers across my cheek, touched his nose to mine, and kissed me softly. “Later.”

I watched him go to the door. “Later.”

I sat down at the small table by the window, and didn’t get one fucking thing done that day.

Brian’s POV

I had no fucking idea what I’d just done in Justin’s studio at PIFA. Other than being fairly sure I’d never done anything remotely like it before.

I shook my head to clear it, got in my car, and drove to the hospital. Gus was going home that afternoon, for a couple of days’ rest before his surgery. This round of chemo was done.

He was asleep when I got there, and so was Lindsay, curled up on the little bed by the window. I sat next to Gus for a while, watching his eyes move behind his lids. The drawings Justin had done for him were tacked to the wall next to the bed. One of them was of the ambulance, with a yellow-haired man and a shorter, dark-haired woman waving. The other one was Gus, smiling.

I didn’t realize how tired I was until I woke up. My pager was going off. I got up and left the room, so it wouldn’t wake Gus. Lindsay’s eyes had opened, but she was asleep again before I got out of the door. She must have learned to sleep through anything in the last couple of weeks.

I phoned my office, and didn’t tell them I was in the hospital or they’d have found a reason for me to come down. I went back into Gus’ room, and he was sitting up, talking to Lindsay.

“Hey, Gus. You’re going home today.”

He smiled. “Going to sleep in my real bed tonight.”

I reached out to mess up his hair, before realizing he didn’t have any. I curved my hand around his head, and leaned down and kissed him. “You sure are.”

“Will you come visit tomorrow, Daddy?”

I hugged him. “Of course I will.”

I sat with him, letting him read to me from a book about wild animals, and felt my eyes start to drift shut again. I held on to enough awareness to learn that the tiger is actually larger than the lion, and then Lindsay was shaking my shoulder. She smiled at me when I opened my eyes. Gus was asleep, and my arm was around him. She was whispering. “His wheelchair is here.”

I picked him up, and he woke up when I settled him into his wheelchair, and pushed him down the hall.

I got back to the loft after nine, and was showered, shaved, changed, and at Woody’s by 10:30. Ted and Emmett were there, and to my great surprise, Michael and Ben were sitting at the bar, apparently enjoying their respite from full time infant care.

“Brian!” Michael hugged me. “Did you get Gus home?”

I nodded, and ordered a double Chivas at the bar, swallowed it, and ordered another. Ben watched me, a small smile on his lips. I lifted an eyebrow, but he didn’t say anything, just took his beer and walked over to join Ted and Emmett at the pool table.

“Your husband doesn’t like me.” I gestured to the bartender for a third drink.

Michael laughed. “He’s your biggest fan behind your back.”

I thought about that. “He’s your biggest fan, and he thinks you like me. He tolerates me for your sake.”

“I think you might be surprised.” Michael swallowed the last of his beer.

“Can I get you another?” I turned to order my fourth.

“Sure.”

I handed Michael the beer, and drank my fourth drink more slowly. The first three had taken the whirling, sharp edge off my restlessness, and I was starting to feel a little drunk. I probably should have eaten something.

“You should get some sleep. Why don’t you go home?”

I looked at him. “Hi, have we met?”

Michael shook his head. “You’re exhausted.”

“I’ve been exhausted since I was in medical school. I no longer require sleep. I’m a new life form.”

“God, I hope if I ever need emergency surgery, he’s had a good night’s sleep.”

“Good luck with that. Trauma surgeons have never had a good night’s sleep. It’s part of our code.”

I played pool with the guys until around midnight. The happy husbands went home, and I went to Babylon with Emmett and Ted, but left them as soon as we got inside. I wandered around for a little while, had another drink, and then went downstairs to check out the dance floor.

I froze halfway down the stairs, and smiled. Not twenty feet away, dancing and kissing some blond guy, was Justin.

He was wearing a dark t-shirt and jeans, and his eyes were closed. There was glitter in his hair, on his shoulders, and on his face.

I circled around and came up behind him, sliding my arms around him while I looked his dance partner in the eye. “Fuck off.”

The kid looked like he was going to say something, then apparently had second thoughts.

The minute he’d heard my voice, Justin had tensed in my arms, but by the time the guy took off, he was relaxed again. He was leaning back against me, and he’d brought his hands up and was resting them on my forearms.

I dipped my head down and started kissing the back of his neck. It was sweaty under his hair, and I licked and nibbled at his skin. He surprised me by shifting his ass back against me. I bent my knees so my cock rested firmly against his ass.

Justin kept dancing, or at least, moving against me more or less in time to the music. I felt him start to turn around in my arms, so I let him. He draped his arms over my shoulders, and looked at me, a half-smile on his face.

His pupils were dark, and his cheeks were flushed.

I bent down and kissed him, moving my lips over his. He opened his mouth a little, and I felt his tongue teasing me, then withdrawing. I chased it with my own, and he laughed a little, our mouths still together.

I rested my forehead against Justin’s. “You’re giggling.”

He nodded.

“You’re high.”

He smiled at me. “Are you going to give me a lecture on drug abuse, Dr. Kinney?” He gave me a slow blink that went right to my cock.

“That depends. What are you on?”

He licked his lips. “Just a very little bit of E.”

I laughed. We were still dancing. I let my arms lie on top of his, and wrapped my hands around the back of his neck. “Just a very little bit, huh? Enough to impair your judgment and lower your sexual inhibitions?”

He moved his head a little, and kissed my throat. “Yes.”

I shook my head. “Then no, I’m not going to lecture you.” I let him nuzzle and kiss my throat and jaw, my head tipped back. I slid my hands up and down his arms, and in a few minutes, he was pressed tightly against me. He was sweaty and beautiful, and I wanted to fuck him.

I kissed him, and felt him giggle again. I raised an eyebrow.

“I was just about to say something incredibly cheesy about the kiss of life.”

I rolled my eyes. “Okay, maybe I will give you the drug abuse lecture.”

He grinned at me. “I stopped myself.”

“True. You get points for that.”

Justin slid his hand down between us and cupped my cock. He got points for that too.

“I want this…” he squeezed my cock… “inside me.”

“Fuck.” I bent down and gripped his ass, pulled him hard against me, and straightened my legs. His feet lifted off the floor for a second, then I let him slide down my body until he was standing in front of me. “Do you want to go in the backroom?”

He shook his head. “If you promise not to be an asshole after, I want to go to your place.”

I kissed him, and gave his lower lip a little nip. “I promise.”

We went out into the cold, and I helped him wind his scarf around his neck.

Justin’s POV

Maybe I was crazy, or maybe I was just extremely high. Maybe I was just remembering him kissing me in my studio, the winter sun pouring in on us. Maybe I wasn’t thinking at all. But I went home with Brian again.

He pulled me into the loft with a hand on my wrist, then stopped and slid the door shut with a thud behind us. He pressed me against the door and kissed me, his hands unfastening my pants and pushing my shirt up. He kissed his way down my body, and buried his face in my stomach, licking at my skin, swirling his tongue in my navel.

Brian pushed my jeans down, and cupped my bare ass with his hands, pulling my crotch into his face. He nuzzled my pubes, licked the head of my cock, and started biting at my thighs.

I reached down and grabbed his hair and tried to pull his mouth to my cock, but he grasped at my hips and pulled down on me, hard. I stumbled into him, then sank to my knees. He kissed me on the mouth, frantically, almost like he was trying to breathe me in.

I felt the E I’d taken hit me in a wave, and everywhere his bare skin touched me – when had he taken off his shirt? When had he taken off mine? – was hot and sparking red and gold light. I laughed and moaned at the same time, and tried to give him all my air. It felt like Brian wouldn’t be able to breathe if I didn’t.

I could feel him panting into my mouth, and I opened my eyes. His eyes were half-closed, and dark, and his lips were red and swollen from kissing me so hard. “Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me,” I said, and started licking the little glittering beads of sweat off his chest and arms. “Fuck me, fuck me….”

He laughed, or moaned, and I felt like I was flying when he pulled me to my feet. I stumbled against him again, and stepped out of my pants, kicking off my shoes. He tugged me into the bedroom, moving backwards, holding my hands, laughing and laughing.

I stripped his jeans off him with desperate hands when we got to the bed, sinking down onto it and pulling him towards my mouth. His hands were in my hair, but they were so gentle, just stroking it. I flattened my tongue on his cock and let my lips slide over the head, then held it in my mouth, playing with it. The instant I tasted his pre-come, I felt another wave of E roll over me, and I hummed and let him slip all the way into my throat.

When he groaned, it mixed with my humming, and I tightened and relaxed my throat to the same rhythm. His knees buckled against me. I fell back on the bed, his cock pulling away from my mouth. Brian shifted me back, pushing on my thighs, spreading me wide.

I felt cold and bare and I pulled at him until he was on top of me. I wound my arms around his neck and my legs around his back, begging him again to fuck me, over and over. His lubed fingers were reaching down between us and pressing against my hole. I opened it up to him, still begging, only this time silently.

He heard me anyway, and ripped a condom open with his teeth. I was running my hands up and down his arms, watching the light glint off the sweat, off the lines and cords of his muscles. “Fuck me.” I just whispered it. It sounded like moaning, but he knew what I wanted.

He put the head of his cock at my opening, and pushed in. I tried to make him hurry, but he was going so slow I wanted to scream, but all that came out my mouth was his name. I might have been saying it over and over, I might have just said it once. I didn’t know, because he was thrusting into me, bringing his hips hard against my thighs. He rubbed at my prostate with the head of his cock, and bit at my neck with his teeth. His left hand was wrapped around the back of my neck, and his right hand was pulling, pulling at my nipples, one and then the other.

I rode the feelings inside my ass, and the waves of E, and the sound of Brian’s frantic moaning, his balls slapping against my skin, the boiling heat inside me. I rode it until it all exploded and splintered and broke, shimmering and sparking behind my eyes and behind my balls.

Brian was moaning and clutching at my shoulders with his hands. It hurt and felt good at the same time, and I knew he was bruising me, bruises that tasted purple and sweet under the pain. Like the hot red fire where his teeth where closing on the skin of my neck. Like the ache inside my ass where he was still jerking and shuddering his orgasm into me.

I might have passed out, or just fallen asleep. I woke up and felt him pulling out of me, and could hardly even move. Brian licked at my neck and gently herded me further back on the bed. He worked the duvet out from under me, cleaned me off with a towel, and then pulled me into his arms. I put my head on his chest, and slipped back down into warm, glittering sleep.

Brian’s POV

Justin’s head was on my chest, and I felt my hand moving through his hair. I liked how it felt slipping through my fingers.

I wanted to sleep. I needed to sleep. But too many things were racing through my mind. Justin’s paintings, which were nothing at all like what I’d expected. His mouth on mine, his asshole clenching around my cock while he whispered all kinds of things in my ear, most of which I couldn’t understand. His damp neck at Babylon, the glitter in his hair. Him looking at me coolly at the diner the other day, telling me to fuck off.

He murmured in his sleep and burrowed into me, and I wrapped my arm around him and pulled him even tighter. I normally hated sleeping with anyone in the bed at all, let alone nestled into me like this, but it felt good. Erotic, too, his skin so soft sliding against mine. His breath on my chest. Warmth everywhere we touched.

I let my eyes close, and spread my legs a little. One of his slid down into the space between mine, and I closed it up again, tangling us close. I finally fell asleep.

The next morning, I woke up before he did. He hadn’t moved, but his lips were parted and he was breathing slowly. I watched him sleep for a few minutes, his lashes fanned out on his cheeks. Then I kissed his forehead and shook him a tiny bit. “Justin.”

After a few repetitions of his name, his eyes fluttered open. “Mmbrgh?”

I laughed. “Good morning.”

He licked his lips and looked at me. “What time is it?”

I looked at the clock. “A little past noon.”

He blinked, and let his eyes close again. I smiled against his hair, and moved my legs against his. He shifted and let his legs fall open, and I rolled over on top of him.

Justin’s eyes opened up again, and he smiled at me. I dipped my head down and kissed his smile, licking his lips and then his tongue. His hands were slowly moving up and down my arms, and his legs were still spread wide around me.

My cock was hard and throbbing, and I reached for a condom and the lube. “Are you sore?” I was moving my finger back and forth across his hole.

He wriggled a little, and shook his head. “It’s okay.”

I let my wet finger slide in just a little bit, and he bit back a moan. I grinned, thinking about the symphony of noises he’d made the night before. He must have known what I was thinking, because he was blushing. I kissed him, touching his tongue with mine just as my finger slid over his prostate.

He bucked up against my hand, and bit at my lip. I pulled away from him and knelt back, putting my hands under the backs of his thighs, lifting him up and pulling him into me. His legs fell over my arms.

He was slowly stroking his cock, his head tipped back, his eyes closed, while I let my cock slide into him. He was tight and hot, and his hand sped up on his dick when I rubbed across his prostate.

I watched him while I fucked him slowly. Twice he pulled his own hand away and I held still until he let me know it was okay to move again. The third time he slapped at my arm, and I didn’t stop, didn’t slow down, just thrust into him repeatedly, hitting that one sweet spot inside him. I felt his ass clamp down on me, pull my orgasm out of me and send it shooting deep into him, while he pumped his out over his hand and chest.

I fell down onto him, his come wet and sticky between us. I buried my face in his neck, and waited for my heart to stop hammering.

He still had his legs open wide around me, and I was lying between them. I reached down and pulled out of him. I got rid of the condom, then found the duvet and pulled it up around my shoulders. I shifted to my side, and Justin scooted down, both of us turning to face each other. I kissed him softly. “Do you have to work today?”

“Not until tomorrow.” We kept kissing for a while, kind of lazily, playing with each other’s fingers. “Do you?”

“Not today. I was going to go see Gus.”

Justin nodded. “Tell him I said hi.”

I cleared my throat, and didn’t look at Justin’s face. “I thought you might want to come with me, to see him.”

Justin’s fingers stopped moving in mine. “At home?”

“Yeah.”

After a minute, he curled his fingers into mine a little. “Okay.”

I sat up. “We should take a shower.”

Justin smiled. “Okay.”

I got up and went into the kitchen naked, and started the coffee. I heard him turning on the shower in the bathroom. I stood in the doorway watching him testing the temperature, and when he got it right, I followed him into the water and steam.


	3. Pulse Point, Chapter 3

  
  
**Pulse Point, Chapter Three**  
By Xie  
  
 **Justin’s POV**  
  
There’d been a flash of surprise in Lindsay’s eyes when she answered the door and saw me with Brian, but she smiled and brought us into the living room. “Gus, look who your daddy brought to visit you.”  
  
Gus’ face lit up, and he laughed when Brian swooped down on him and gently tickled him. Brian slipped down behind Gus and pulled him into his lap, while Lindsay yanked some of the pillows out to make room for him.   
  
I crouched down next to Gus, and grinned at him. “Hey, Gus, how’re you doing?”  
  
He smiled happily at me. “They put a new cast on me, see, Justin? Can you draw on it?”  
  
I looked down at the fiberglass cast, and nodded. “Sure, do you have markers?”  
  
Melanie laughed, and got up and went into another room. She came back a few minutes later with a box of marking pens, and I sat down on the sofa with Gus’ leg across my lap. “Okay, what do you want, your name?”  
  
He nodded, and I looked at the cast. I glanced up, and Brian was watching me, his lips quirking into something that almost looked like a smile. I grinned back at him, then looked down at the cast. “Here, Gus?”  
  
Gus agreed, and I started to outline the letters of his name. “I love this name, don’t tell anyone, but my teddy bear when I was little was named ‘Gus’.”   
  
Gus giggled. “You just told everyone.”  
  
I smiled over at him, and then went back to my drawing. “Ooops.”  
  
Melanie snorted a laugh, and I tossed the black marker back in the box, and picked up a green one. “Here we go, you ready?”  
  
I colored in his name with different color inks, and then drew a border of things I thought he’d like, his dad’s car, his moms, Brian, the ambulance, balloons, a lion, and a tiger. He was holding his leg perfectly still and watching, his tongue caught between his teeth. Brian was watching, too; every time I glanced at him, his eyes were on my hands.  
  
“You should put your picture in there.” It was Lindsay’s voice, warm and friendly. I smiled without looking up, and drew a blond haired man in a paramedic jacket, standing near the ambulance, holding a balloon in his hand. Then I signed the drawing, “JT.”  
  
Everyone gathered around and took the pens and signed their names, except Brian. “I can’t get up, this kid weighs a ton.” But he was smiling.  
  
Gus giggled again, and everyone sat down. I moved over to a chair, and Lindsay brought out coffee, cookies, and ice cream for everyone.  Gus had turned pale and quiet. Brian teased him into eating some ice cream, but he licked his lips after like it made him queasy. I saw Brian’s jaw get tight when Lindsay took the ice cream bowl from him.   
  
We sat and talked a while longer. Brian was still holding Gus, whose eyes kept sliding closed, then flying open again. Finally, they stayed shut, and after a few minutes, Brian slid carefully out from under him and stood up.   
  
Lindsay walked him to the door, and I hung back, taking my time getting my coat from the dining room. Melanie was leaning in the doorway, a cup of coffee in her hand, dark circles under her eyes. I smiled tentatively at her, and she raised an eyebrow. “Gus was glad to see you.”  
  
I just smiled a little more. “He’s a great kid.”  
  
Her eyes crinkled up for a second, and I thought she was about to ask me something, when she made a tiny little motion with her head, and shrugged. Just then, Brian called from the hallway. “Justin? Are you coming?”  
  
I pulled my jacket on, told Lindsay and Melanie goodnight, and followed him out into the cold. He was standing in the archway at the end of their path in the last of the evening light, not even wearing his jacket. I put my hand on his back, and I felt his muscles twitch under his skin. He turned and looked at me, and I could feel the tension radiating off him.  
  
He was looking at me intently, and I saw something kind of wild in his eyes. I just stared for a second, then gave him a slow blink, and felt my mouth softening into the smallest beginnings of a smile.  
  
He took a long breath, grabbed my shoulders and pulled me into him. He still felt tense, but it wasn’t the crackling energy I’d felt a minute before, like a landmine I had to get across somehow. When his mouth crushed into mine, it was just simple need.  
  
I put my arms around his neck, and let him pull me in even tighter, until the stubble on his face was rasping against my skin, until I thought he was bruising my arms even through my jacket. And then he let me go. I smiled at him again, and blinked again, and he almost laughed, then touched his forehead to mine.  
  
“Do you have to work tonight?” His voice was rough.  
  
I shook my head. “Tomorrow afternoon at 4.”  
  
He nuzzled into my hair, and I kissed his throat. “I need a shower.”  
  
I smiled, but didn’t look at him. “Yeah? Me too.”  
  
He nodded. “I need to make the water as hot as we can stand it, so the bathroom’s all full of steam. And then I’m going to slowly…” and then he pulled my face up, and kissed me. “Slowly strip off your clothes, and pull you into the shower.” He kissed me again.  
  
I broke the kiss. “What about your clothes?”  
  
“They magically disappeared.”  
  
I nodded. “Of course.” I kissed Brian’s jaw. “Go on.”  
  
“Then I’m going to kiss you, and lick you, and I might even bite you.” And he nipped at my lower lip. “Then I’m going to take the soap, and make you all slippery with it, and slide my hands down through the soap, and grab your ass.” And Brian cupped my ass through my jeans, and pulled me tighter against him.  
  
“Then I’m going to pull your ass cheeks apart…”   
  
I shut Brian up with a kiss, my hands coming up and wrapping around the back of his neck. “We’re not fucking in Lindsay and Melanie’s front yard. Let’s go.”  
  
We never made it to the shower when we got back to the loft. I was on my knees rubbing my face into Brian’s crotch in the elevator, and he had me naked, ass up on the bed, almost before I realized we’d gotten inside.  
  
I was on the bed, my face buried in my arms, while Brian licked and sucked at my hole. He moved his mouth away from my ass, and a second later I felt his finger, cold and wet, curling inside me. I pushed back against it, and moaned, and then felt his hands on my hips, turning me.  
  
I let him move me onto my back, and I put my legs around his waist and my arms around his neck. He never took his eyes away from mine, and didn't close them even when he was buried inside me as far as I could pull him, not even when I clenched down on his cock and drove my heels into his back, and choked out his name. He just watched my face and thrust slowly inside me.  
  
That night when we were fucking, I felt something between us, a sense of all the things he wouldn't say, the things I was afraid even to think. He'd look me in the eye and I'd feel it, a shock of something, a feeling, connection, desire, possession, I don't know. Something I wanted and resisted at the same time.  
  
I tipped my head back and felt his mouth on my throat, sucking at my skin. He sucked the blood up to the surface, and then gently worried the skin with his teeth, and then let it go. He moved his mouth across my neck and down my shoulder, leaving a trail of marks.   
  
His cock was moving across my prostate, and my cock was rubbing erratically against his stomach. I could feel the ridges of his muscles when he thrust into me, and I started trying to arch up and get more contact. He pressed deeper, pushing his stomach against me, and I moaned at the combined stroking of my cock and my prostate.   
  
I curved my neck forward, and he kissed me, then pulled back and looked into my eyes again. I felt my edges starting to dissolve, the tingling and burning start inside my balls, and I started rocking up to meet his thrusts.  
  
He bit off a cry and buried his face in my neck, and I felt him start jerking against me. I pushed up hard against his stomach, and just as his fists closed hard on my hair, I started to come. It was a long spiraling wave of pleasure, starting at the base of my spine and spilling out in a warm pool between us.  
  
He finally stopped shuddering, and so did I, and he fell down heavily on me. He just lay there for a few minutes, and I felt the blood pounding in my ears. He hadn’t let go of my hair.  
  
After a while, Brian pulled gently out of me, tied off the condom, and tossed it aimlessly off the side of the bed. He rolled onto his back and pulled me with him. I lay across his chest, boneless and sleepy, but not tired enough to fall asleep. It was probably only around 9, and I had just missed a whole day in the studio. I didn’t care.  
  
“So, what made you decide to become a surgeon?” I was tracing my finger up and down the curves and lines of his chest muscles. His hand was resting on the back of my neck, and his other arm was folded back behind his head.  
  
“Money. Surgeons make lots and lots of money.”  
  
I considered that. “Lots of specialties make more money than trauma surgery.”  
  
“I didn’t want patients and handholding. I don’t like long, slow, detailed surgeries. I like to get my hands in and find what’s making them bleed and keeping them from breathing, or their heart from beating, and pull all the broken parts together so they can get worked on by the other guys. It’s what I do.”  
  
I lifted up my head, then put it down again. My hand went back to its aimless tracing.  
  
“Why did you become a paramedic?” His voice was quiet.  
  
“Money.” He laughed. “No, really. I needed money for school. I was busing tables, and it doesn’t pay very well. Daphne was working for a paramedic company out where we grew up, to pay for medical school, and she was making ten times what I was, working only three 24-hour shifts a week.”  
  
“Daphne’s in medical school?” He sounded surprised.  
  
I shook my head. “She had to take a leave. None of the companies around here do the 24-hour shifts anymore, and she tried for a semester, but it was impossible. The hours in medical school, they’re killer. So she’s trying to save up enough so she won’t have to work more than two or three shifts a week during the school year.”  
  
“You grew up with her?”  
  
“Yeah.” I didn’t want to talk about growing up, so I scooted up his body, and kissed him. “What happened to our shower?”  
  
 **Brian’s POV**  
  
I knew Justin didn’t want to talk about something, and I was surprised at myself for being as curious as I was. So I let him kiss me and tease me into the shower, and then distract me with a blowjob. I had my hands tangled in his wet hair, while he licked at the head of my dick and jerked me with his hand. I was panting and bucking into his mouth when he finally relented and swallowed me all the way down. I hit the back of his throat, and he pulled his head back and took me down again. I looked down at my cock disappearing into his mouth, his lips locked around the base, my pubic hair pressing into his face. I had to turn my eyes away, but couldn’t keep from looking back when he pulled off again.  
  
He smiled up at me, then wrapped his lips around the head of my cock. He slid down slowly, hollowing his cheeks and sucking on me, and then slid one finger along the underside of my cock, right in front of the path his lips were following. Then he pressed on the smooth spot behind my balls, and swallowed around my cock.  
  
My orgasm surprised me, but he let it flood down his throat, like he’d known it was coming. I sagged against the tile wall, and realized the steam was clearing as the water cooled. Justin stood up, turned the water off, and leaned into me, kissing my shoulder. We got out of the shower. I dried us both off, and we went back into the bedroom.   
  
I laughed. “Fuck. The bed.”  
  
Justin smiled, and leaned down and tugged at the pile of sheets and blankets on the floor. “I wonder how that happened?”  
  
I snorted, and we pulled everything back in place. I ignored the come stains on the dark sheets. I glanced at the clock. It was only 9:30, but I suddenly wanted nothing more than to crawl under the duvet, pull Justin up against me, and sleep for a month. I glanced at him, and he did that slow blink thing again. I pulled back the covers and got in. He laughed and crawled under the covers on the far side of the bed, and curled against my side.  
  
I fell asleep, and didn’t even dream.  
  
I woke up to the insistent sound of my pager. It took me a while to surface enough to find it. The clock said 2 AM, and Justin was blinking next to me, his blond hair in his eyes. He rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand while I read the pager, and swore. “I have to go.”  
  
He started to get up, and I leaned over and brushed a kiss across his lips. “You can stay.”  
  
Justin hesitated. “You sure?”  
  
I nodded, and kissed him again. “Go back to sleep. I’ll leave a key on the counter, so you can lock the door.”  
  
I saw that hesitation again, but he nodded, and lay back down.  
  
I stood in the kitchen, swallowing down cold coffee and digging up a spare key. Just then I heard an unfamiliar phone ringing. It was coming from the pocket of Justin’s jacket. I glanced at the caller ID, and it said “Daph,” so I answered. “Hi, Daphne.”  
  
There was silence for a second. “Brian?”  
  
“Yeah. Justin’s asleep, did you need him?” I really had to go. Then I looked towards the bedroom, and Justin was standing at the top of the stairs, shoving his hair back with his hand. I started walking towards him with the phone.   
  
“Yeah, I do. There’ve been more shootings and they need us to come in.”  
  
“Fuck. They paged me too, but didn’t say why. I’ll bring him in.” I snapped his phone shut. “More shootings. We both have to go in.”  
  
He was already pulling his clothes back on, and I put his phone back in his jacket pocket.   
  
When we pulled up in front of the EMT dispatch center on the far side of the hospital parking lot, I saw Daphne standing on the stairs. I pulled him close, took one last breath of his warm skin, and kissed him. I kept him from pulling away for just a second, then he opened the car door, and I felt a blast of icy air. “Later.”  
  
He smiled at me. “Later.”  
  
When I got to the hospital, it was chaos. I remembered myself telling Justin I liked to put my hands in the blood and find the broken parts and put them back together. I decided I must have been crazy when I said that.  
  
Six hours later, I looked up, and realized one of the EMTs sliding a patient on a back board carefully onto the exam table was Justin. I didn’t say anything to him, and he didn’t do more than glance at me. Daphne was rattling off the guy’s information: Lung cancer patient, shot where he sat in his daughter’s car while she was in the supermarket, bad blood pressure, bad respiratory rate, bad heartbeat. He was cyanotic and on the edge of crashing.   
  
When Daphne finished, she and Justin shoved the gurney out of the room, and we went to work.   
  
The bullets had torn up his chest and belly, and I knew after one minute this wouldn’t be one I pulled out. I glanced at Cynthia, my gloved hands covered in blood. “Where’s his daughter?”  
  
“In the hall.” Her eyes were dark. I just shook my head, and she stepped back from the patient, and went to get the daughter. A woman in her forties, her face streaked with tears, came in the room, her arms tight around her chest.  
  
I did my best to hold him together until the rest of his family could get there, but there was no point. There wasn’t enough left to keep him alive, not even for five more minutes. His daughter held his hand, and I heard her telling him she loved him, and had thought they’d have a little more time. I felt Cynthia at my side, and I lifted my hands and let him go.  
  
Cynthia followed me out of the trauma room, and we stripped off our gloves and bloody scrubs. She glanced at me appraisingly. “You holding up okay?”  
  
I just gave her a look, and she sighed. “I know Gus’s surgery is in a couple of days. And you weren’t supposed to be on tonight.”  
  
I shrugged. “Someone should have told the shooters. Or maybe told the CNN crews to get out of town, since no doubt their new-found infamy is spurring them on to greater heights of mayhem and destruction.”  
  
Cynthia nodded, frowning, and I took advantage of a momentary lull to dictate the chart notes on my last three patients. All of whom had died. I hated losing even one patient, but three in a row particularly sucked.  
  
A little while later, I was sitting on a bench outside, thinking that the blood on my scrubs was probably going to freeze over. I didn’t know why I didn’t feel the cold. The sky was light. I looked up, and Ted was standing next to me, two Starbucks cups in his hand.   
  
I looked at him. “Tell me that’s a triple shot latte.”  
  
“It is.” He handed it to me, and then ruined the gesture by sitting next to me on the bench. He had a knit cap on, and a scarf, gloves, and wool jacket, and the tip of his nose was red with the cold. I wondered if mine was, too, and I touched a finger to it out of curiosity. It felt warm.  
  
Ted shifted a little next to me. “So, rough night.”  
  
I snorted. “So rough they had to call in the emergency accounting team?”  
  
“I always get in this early, I get my best work done before the rest of the office gets here.”  
  
I nodded, and sipped my coffee. “I wish I could figure out a way to get my work done without other people, too.”  
  
Ted drank his coffee in silence, but then he drew in a breath and I knew he was going to say something I’d regret. “How’s Gus?”  
  
“He’s just peachy, Theodore. He’s got a shattered leg with a tumor in it, lost all his hair, is going in for a bone graft in two days, and oh, by the way, the next day starts chemo all over again. Couldn’t be better.” I stood up and threw my empty coffee cup in the trash. “Three generations of cancer in one family. Clearly, emotional damage isn’t the only reason Jack Kinney should never have been allowed to reproduce.”  
  
I heard Ted sigh, and get up. My back was to him. I was shocked when he let his hand rest on my back for a minute, but I didn’t say anything, or move, and after a minute he walked inside. I waited a couple of minutes, then pushed my hand through my hair, took in a long, cold breath, and went back inside, pulling my filthy scrubs off and shouting for a clean set.   
  
I stopped at the diner after I finally got out of there. Deb wasn’t on, and I ate a turkey sandwich and drank coffee in peace and quiet, then went home. When I got back to the loft, the first thing I noticed was the key, still sitting on the counter. I felt a stab of some feeling, maybe irritation, or impatience, or even anger. I didn’t really put a name on it, just threw the key back in the drawer.   
  
The bathroom was a mess, wet towels dropped on the floor, the shower door standing open. I threw the towels in the laundry hamper, and shut the shower door. When I got back into the bedroom, I started to get into the bed, and stopped. There were come stains all over the sheets, and the duvet was half off the bed. There were even blond hairs on the pillow. I swore and stripped the sheets, and put new ones, dark gray, on the bed, then climbed in.   
  
The pillows didn’t smell of anything, and I fell asleep.  
 **  
Justin’s POV**  
  
I opened the door to the apartment, dumped my portfolio and bag on the floor, and hung my wet jacket and scarf on the hooks on the wall. Daphne’s jacket and boots were there, and I followed the sound of the music to the kitchen.  
  
She was sitting at the table, drinking coffee and reading the paper. Her hoodie clashed in a scary way with her pajama bottoms.  
  
I poured a cup and sat down with her. She looked at me, and sighed. “I should have joined the army.”  
  
I sipped my coffee and nodded. “That would be good, then you could be getting shot at in Iraq.”  
  
“We’re getting shot at here.” She got up and refilled her cup, then sat down, tucking one bare foot under her. “Have you watched CNN lately? Since that last shooting spree, it’s become the all-Pittsburgh-crime-all-the-time channel.”  
  
 I looked at her. “You’d have to kill people. I thought you were against that.”  
  
She sighed again. “Yeah, that’s the problem. But then the army would be paying for me to go to medical school, instead of me having to save up for it myself.”  
  
I nodded. “In exchange for the next ten years of your life and your first born child.”  
  
She nodded glumly, then looked at me. “So, were you at Brian’s?”  
  
I shrugged. “No, I was at the studio. Why?”  
  
“You have that puffy-lipped, freshly-fucked look.”   
  
I laughed. “I may have stopped somewhere on my way home. And I only get that from Brian?”  
  
“Lately.” She smiled. She liked Brian.   
  
But I shook my head. “Sorry to disappoint you and your dreams of romantic bliss, but it wasn’t Brian.”  
  
She tipped her head to the side. “Who was it?”  
  
I looked at her, trying to remember the guy’s name. “Matthew? Mark?”  
  
“Luke? John?” She’d wrinkled up her nose.  
  
 “I’d have remembered if it was a Luke.”  
  
Daphne sighed. “Do you suppose Brian’s fucking other guys?”  
  
I finished my coffee. “By the dozens. The term ‘recreational sex’ was invented for Brian Kinney.” I put the cup in the sink, and went to my bedroom, feeling Daphne staring after me.  
  
I hadn’t heard from Brian since the night of the last shootings. I’d left him two messages on his voice mail, but he hadn’t called me back, and I’d stopped calling him. I thought at first he was hung up at the hospital, but by the end of the second day, I’d pretty much figured out he really wasn’t calling me back.  
  
I knew Gus’ surgery was the next morning, and I wished I could have seen him again, but I didn’t have Lindsay’s phone number. I didn’t even know her last name. I decided I’d probably be better off waiting until Gus was out of surgery and back in a regular room, and try to visit him there. With Daphne. When Brian wasn’t around.  
  
I pulled my shirt off over my head, and smelled sweat and sex and spilled beer. I threw it in the hamper, and went and took a shower. I couldn’t remember the name of the guy I’d fucked; for all I knew it really was Luke. Or Jesus Christ. I had no idea. I just knew that when I’d walked into Woody’s that afternoon, Brian was at the bar, his arm around the neck of a guy who had his hand down the front of Brian’s jeans. He didn’t see me, and I left, and went to Pistol.  
  
I shook the water out of my eyes, and washed my hair, letting the hot water rinse the shampoo away. I tried not to think about Brian’s shower, or his hands in my hair while I swallowed his cock. I didn’t give a fuck who jerked him off at a bar, or who he screwed. But I wasn’t going to sit around, like some teenager with a crush, and cry because he didn’t call. Brian had promised not to be an asshole. As far as I was concerned, not calling me back for two days was being an asshole.  
  
“Fuck him,” I told my reflection in the mirror, and rubbed my hair with a towel.  
  
When I got back out to the kitchen, Daphne had changed into her uniform, and was eating a bagel at the counter. She looked at me thoughtfully.  “You know what this is about?”  
  
I looked at her, confused. “What what is about?”  
  
“The thing with Brian.” She swallowed. “It’s about Ethan.”  
  
I poured another cup of coffee, and tried hard to make sense of that. I gave up. “I give up. Ethan was four years ago. I don’t even remember him. What the fuck are you talking about?”   
  
“Justin, even if Ethan wasn’t a lying, cheating asshole – and I do want to point out that I never liked him – that shouldn’t turn you against having a relationship with Brian. Who I want to point out, I’ve always liked.”  
  
“You only like Brian,” I said, “because he’s totally hot and sucks up to you constantly.”  
  
She sighed happily. “Yeah, he’s wonderful.”  
  
I shook my head. “This has nothing to do with that. I’m starving.”  
  
“I’m shocked.”   
  
I pulled the dishtowel off the refrigerator door handle, and threw it at her. “Shut up. Let’s go eat before our shift.”  
  
We went for pizza, and then picked up the rig. Bill and Mark were hanging out in the break room. I was getting my bulletproof vest out of my locker when I overheard one of them say something about the shootings.   
  
I looked over at them. “Did they catch the guys?”  
  
Bill shook his head. “No, and they still have no leads. The city brought in the FBI and ATF.”  
  
Daphne was fastening her vest. “How can they not have caught them? A bunch of wasted teenagers driving stolen cars, shooting up the city four times now?”  
  
I got into my vest, and just as I was putting my jacket back on, my cell rang. I looked at the number, and it was Brian. I didn’t answer it right away, but just before it rolled to voice mail, I flipped it open. I didn’t say anything, though.  
  
Brian was quiet for a minute, and then he just said, “Hey.”  
  
I took a breath. “Hey.”  
  
I heard him take a breath, too. “You working?”  
  
“We’re just going out.” I turned my back to everyone, and put my hand on the locker door.  
  
“I just wanted you to know they’re admitting Gus tonight, if you get by the hospital.”   
  
I didn’t say anything for a minute.  
  
“He was asking about you.”  
  
The fucker. “You’re making that up.”  
  
“I’m not. He did. He asked if you’d be coming to see him. I told him you would.”  
  
“Of course I was going to come and see him. You don’t have to ask. I’m not an asshole.” I knew my voice sounded angry.  
  
“Unlike me, you mean.”   
  
I lowered my voice, because, knowing Daphne, she was two inches away, listening. “I would never let any feelings I had for or about you change anything about Gus. That has nothing to do with you.”  
  
Brian gave a short laugh. “Okay. Good.” Another beat of silence. “So you’ll come see him.”  
  
“Yes. I said I would.”  
  
“Even though his father is an asshole.”  
  
“Exactly.” And I hung up the phone.  
  
I didn’t turn around to look at Daphne, just grabbed my stuff and walked outside to the rig. I climbed in, and when she got behind the wheel and turned to look at me, I held up my hand. “Just don’t. I don’t want to talk about it.”  
  
She nodded, and started the truck. I kicked at the floorboard, and she glanced at me, but she still didn’t say anything. I looked around. “Where the fuck are we going? Did we get a call?”  
  
She shook her head. “I thought we could just drive around a little. You seemed like you wanted to go.”  
  
I sighed, and watched the lights outside for a while. Daphne usually knew when to push and when to shut up. I was glad she wasn’t asking me a lot of questions, because “he didn’t call me back for two days” just didn’t sound like that big of a deal when I said it out loud, but somehow it was.   
  
Her voice broke into my thoughts with something even less welcome than reflecting on Brian’s assholeness. “My mom said your mom called today.”  
  
“Jesus, when is she going to give up?”  
  
Daphne pulled up in front of Starbucks. “My prediction is, never.”  
  
I nodded glumly.  
  
“Are you really never going to talk to her again?”  
  
I shrugged, got out, and went and got in line. Daphne stood behind me, and didn’t say anything else until we were back in the rig.  
  
“Okay, so what happened with Brian?” She blew on her coffee, then took a sip.  
  
I shrugged. “If I say it, I’ll sound like a pathetic high school girl in love with the captain of the football team.”  
  
She laughed. “Say it anyway. I already know you’re not a girl.”  
  
I had to smile at her. “I don’t know, Daph. We were together all night, we went and saw Gus together, it was… it was really good. It felt… close. Good. He dropped me off here, you saw him. He kissed me, and he seemed totally fine, and then he didn’t return two of my calls, and I didn’t hear from him until just now.” I glanced at her, and she was frowning. “I know it’s idiotic. I should just give up.”  
  
“Maybe he was with Gus, or did a double at work, or something. Did you ask him why he didn’t call?”  
  
I stared at her. “Are you crazy? Does he seem like the kind of guy you’d ask why he didn’t call?”  
  
She nodded. “I told you this was about Ethan.”  
  
“What the fuck?”  
  
“You have trust issues. You don’t care what people say, you only want to know what they do.”  
  
I made a gesture. “Why does that mean I have trust issues? Don’t actions speak louder than words? Isn’t that a universal truth?”  
  
She drank some more coffee. “Because you do have trust issues.” She took another sip. “Maybe he does too. Or intimacy issues, or something.”  
  
“He’s hard to read.”  
  
“Why read him at all? Ask him. Maybe he’ll just tell you.”  
  
I snorted.  
  
A burst of static interrupted our psychotherapy session, and we responded to a call about a grocery store clerk who’d had a heart attack at a local market. I felt uneasy when a car drove by slowly while we were sprinting for the store from the parking lot, but it was just someone rubbernecking.   
  
After we brought him to the hospital, we got called out again, this time to a multi-car accident downtown. It had started to snow, and the roads were a mess. I figured it wouldn’t be the last one of the night. And I was right.  
  
Three hours later, we were bringing in a teenager who’d spun out and flipped his parents’ car. He was unconscious, and I had a bad feeling about him. I saw Brian at the end of the hall while we were leaving, and he looked at me before I turned and walked out.  
  
We slid the gurney back into the back of the rig, and Daphne slammed the door. The snow had turned into rain, and left a blackened icy crust on the curb. I leaned against the side of the ambulance, and shifted uncomfortably in my bulletproof vest. I wanted to take it off, but I didn’t feel like hearing a lecture from Daphne, so I just stood up straight again, and sighed.  
  
 “Go talk to him.” Daphne tugged the scrunchy out of her hair, and shook it out. It sprung out in curls around her head.  
  
I shrugged. “He saw me. If he wants to talk to me, he can come out.”  
  
She rolled her eyes. “God, how did the two of you ever get together in the first place? You’re both totally bizarre.”  
  
“We’re not together.” I pulled my jacket off, and shrugged out of my vest. It wasn’t as cold as it had been earlier, and I wanted to take my sweater off.  
  
“Hey.” It was Brian’s voice.  
  
I turned around. And then I wondered if he’d heard what I said to Daphne. And if he’d care, one way or the other.  
  
“Hey.” I tugged my sweater over my head, and threw it on the floor of the rig.   
  
Brian was wearing his scrubs, and nothing over them. It might have gotten warmer, but it was still cold. I put my vest and my jacket back on. “Aren’t you freezing?”  
  
He shrugged.   
  
“How’s Gus?”   
  
I saw Brian’s jaw tighten, but his tone was light. “He’s floating on a cloud of morphine right now. Mostly just sleeping.”  
  
“Do you think he’ll be able to have visitors tomorrow night?”   
  
“Probably.” Just then his pager went off. He glanced at it. “I have to go back, meet me at the loft after you get off?”  
  
I told him okay, and he didn’t say anything, just turned and headed back towards the building. I heard Daphne clear her throat, and looked at her. The throat-clearing turned into laughter.  
  
I got in the rig, and slammed the door after me. Daphne was still laughing when she got in the driver’s seat.   
  
**Brian’s POV**  
  
I buzzed Justin into the loft. He came up the stairs, and I was standing at the open door, waiting for him. He walked past me, dropped his bag on the floor, and pulled off his jacket. I took it from him, and threw it over one of the kitchen stools. “Do you want a beer?”  
  
He shook his head. “Why didn’t you call?”  
  
His voice was calm, mildly curious. He didn’t sound wounded, although he was maybe a little angry. But mostly curious.  
  
I thought for a minute. “I guess I needed a little time.”  
  
“For what?”  
  
I laughed. “I’m not exactly sure.”  
  
He just looked at me, and then nodded. “Okay. Don’t do it again. If you need time, tell me. Don’t just fuck me, and kiss me, and take me to see your kid, then sleep with me and fuck me again, and then disappear.”  
  
More rules. This kid was full of them.   
  
“Speaking of going to see your kid, when is his surgery?”  
  
I walked over to the refrigerator, and pulled out a beer. I really wanted a scotch, but I had to be sober when I went to the hospital, and I didn’t want one scotch, I wanted half the bottle. I held up a bottle of beer and raised an eyebrow at him, but he shook his head. I tried a different bottle. “Water?”  
  
He nodded, and I tossed him the Evian. “His surgery’s at 10 am, but I have to be there by around 8.”  
  
Justin glanced at his watch. “We have an hour and a half, tops.”  
  
I smiled. “That seems to be enough time to accomplish something, if we set our minds to it.”  
  
Justin laughed, and walked up to me. “I’m not sure it has anything to do with our minds.”  
  
I couldn’t have agreed more, so I kissed him. He pulled back from me a little, and then brushed his soft mouth across my lips. He gently bit my jaw, then kissed me again. I hardly stopped kissing and stripping him all the way to the bedroom, and we stood at the bottom of the stairs and pulled the last of our clothes off.  
  
Justin sat on the edge of the bed, and I knelt on the platform between his legs. He took my nipple in his mouth and swirled his tongue over it, then sucked on it. I let my head fall back, and he wrapped his hands around my waist, and dragged his tongue down my stomach muscles.  
  
I sighed, and gently pushed him backwards, and he moved back on the bed. I crawled with him, still between his legs, and when he dropped back onto the pillows, I leaned down and licked and sucked at his nipples, too.   
  
He sighed and arched into my mouth. I smiled against his skin, and kept kissing down his body. I avoided his straining cock, and he gave a half-murmur of protest. I dropped one kiss on his shaft, and felt the blood pounding in it, then kissed down to his thighs.  
  
Justin lifted his legs up over my shoulders, and I reached around and pulled his thighs against the sides of my head. I licked at the spot behind his balls, and when I felt him start to rock towards my mouth, I sat back on my heels. His legs fell down on my arms, and I smiled at him.  
  
I reached across him and got lube and condoms, and Justin curved up and wrapped his arm around my neck. He held out his hand for the lube, and I poured it into his palm. I rolled the condom onto my dick, and he followed it down with his lubed hand, jerking me slowly through the latex. Then he leaned back, still hanging onto my neck, and lifted his ass up off the bed. He locked his eyes on mine, and started to slowly fuck his hole with his lubed finger.  
  
I knew his grip was biting into my neck, but I didn’t feel it. I kept shifting my gaze between his eyes and his ass, and lifted his legs higher, tugging his ass a little closer to me.   
  
He put a second finger inside himself, and I stopped watching his face, just watched his hole stretching and pulsing around his fingers as they moved in and out. When he started to put a third one in, I growled and yanked him into me, hard. His arm fell off my shoulders and he landed back on the mattress, his blond hair splaying out on the dark cover.  
  
He’d pulled his fingers away when he fell back, and I pressed my cock against his hole. I could feel the heat and slipperiness through the condom, and I pressed the head through his opening, and felt him bear down against me.  
  
I eased in with one long, slow thrust, and deliberately stroked across his prostate. He bit his lip, and I leaned down and kissed him, then buried my face in his neck and fucked him.  
  
I felt him tighten on me, and his cock jerked between us, the head wet and leaking. I slowed down and changed my angle so my stomach wasn’t stroking his cock, and my cock wasn’t stroking his prostate. He moaned, but I kept gently fucking him, and he slowly relaxed and let me fuck him deep.  
  
I had to take a breath myself, and force my orgasm back, but I brought him to the edge and backed off it two more times. He had his arms thrown back over his head, and was tossing his head back and forth. He started to curse me and beg me, but when he finally couldn’t even get any words out, I shifted my hips again and fucked him to make him come.  
  
He crossed his arms cross his face, and I could see his teeth biting into his lip, but then I couldn’t see anything but the red and black inside my eyelids. I’d been keeping him from coming, and myself, too, but I couldn’t stop it anymore for either of us. I let the burn spill up and out of me, and his ass clamped on my cock, and his cock went rigid against my stomach, and flooded out between us.  
  
I panted on top of him for a minute, then cleaned us both up a little and lay back down. We were tangled up in the sheets, and I kissed his shoulder. “You looked prettier on the blue ones. I have to plan better in the future.”  
  
He smiled. I tried to straighten out the duvet, and he helped me tug it free of our legs and get it more or less covering us. I rolled onto my side, and he rolled onto his, and we lay facing each other. I brushed his hair back out of his eyes.  
  
He moved his head a little. “I need a haircut.”  
  
“It’s hot.”  
  
“It’s in my eyes.”  
  
“That’s hot.” I touched my nose to his. He ran a hand down my side, and scooted closer. His fingers trailed over my ass, then lightly brushed my crack. I didn’t move, just looked at him.  
  
He smiled at me, just a little. “Do you ever get fucked?” He had that curious note in his voice again.  
  
“Sometimes. Why, do you want to fuck me?”  
  
He grinned. “Sometimes.”  
  
I laughed, and rolled over on top of him. We both just lay there for a while, not talking. Then he kissed me. “You have to go.”  
  
I nodded. “You can stay.”  
  
He shook his head. “I’m going home. But thanks.”   
  
I dropped him at his place, then went to the hospital. Gus was still in his room, and Lindsay was sitting on the bed holding him. Melanie was sitting on a chair next to him on the other side, holding his hand. I smiled at Gus, and stood at the foot of the bed. “Hey, little guy. How you holding up?”  
  
“Hi, daddy. I’m okay.” He looked like he’d been crying, and Lindsay looked like she had been, too.   
  
I made my voice as soft as I could. “It’s going to be okay, Gus. Dr. Marianne is a very, very good bone doctor. The best.”  
  
He sounded cranky. “Why can’t you do it, daddy?”  
  
I closed my eyes for a second, thinking about the night they brought him in. I shoved the thought out of my head. “Because this is a special bone surgery, so they have special doctors who only do bone surgeries.”  
  
He’d heard this all before, and just nodded. I wondered if he understood at all. And it was bullshit anyway, because even if I were the greatest orthopedic surgeon on earth, I could never operate on my own kid.  
  
They finally came for him, and we stayed with him long past the point they normally sent parents away, and then I went and watched, just like before. This time Lindsay didn’t even try to watch, just went to the waiting room with Mel.  
  
MacDonald was as good as I’d told Gus she was, and she removed the bad bone and grafted in the good in less than three hours. I stopped and told Lindsay and Mel it went well, then went into recovery to see him. He was still unconscious, and everything looked good. I stared at his face for a few minutes, and one of the nurses looked at me with sympathy. I ignored him, and turned and went back to the waiting room. I saw MacDonald going in just as I got there, and I went in behind her.  
  
Lindsay had her head on Mel’s shoulder, but they got up as soon as we came in. Marianne smiled at her. “He’s fine, as I’m sure Brian told you.”  
  
They both nodded.   
  
“He’ll probably be asleep for another five or six hours, maybe more, if you want to take the chance to get some rest, or at least, something to eat. It went very well, and there were no complications or problems. I know his oncologist wants to talk to you when he’s awake, but until then, I strongly urge you to get some sleep if you can.” She hesitated. “The next few days are going to be rough.”  
  
I gritted my teeth, and watched Lindsay’s face, but it didn’t change. She just nodded. “We know.” I felt my lips turning in.  
  
Gus didn’t wake up for seven hours. They’d let us wait in his room, and she and Melanie were sleeping there, while I sat next to Gus’ bed in recovery and ignored the nurses glaring at me. There wasn’t anything wrong; kids often didn’t wake up from anesthesia for hours, and all things considered, the longer he was unconscious, the better. But being there with the beeping monitors soothed me, so I stayed.  
  
I’d actually fallen asleep with my head on his mattress when I jerked awake. He was moving a little, and when I looked at him, his eyes were open. He looked scared.   
  
I smiled at him, and touched his cheek, and the frightened look disappeared. He blinked, and went back to sleep, but it was the normal sleep of a sick kid, and not the anesthetized blankness from before.  
  
The nurses bustled me out of the way while they unhooked him from some of his monitoring equipment, and I went down and got Mel and Lindsay. I got some coffee downstairs, and even ate an apple, and then went back to recovery.  
  
Gus was finally back in his room around midnight. There was a note on the bedside table from Justin and Daphne, and a big bunch of balloons. The surgical team had cut Gus’ cast off, and he’d have a new one, but for now it was a splint and bandages. The old cast was sitting against the wall, Justin’s drawings and Gus’ name still intact.   
  
I went out in the hall, and leaned against the wall. Melanie followed me out.  
  
“You really should go home and get some sleep.”  
  
I nodded. “What time is the oncologist coming by in the morning?”  
  
She shrugged. “You know how it is. Sometime between 6 AM and two minutes before they start the chemo.”  
  
I sighed. “I’ll leave her a message. And I’ll come back at 6.”  
  
Mel nodded, and I stopped at oncology on my way out.  
  
When I got to my car, I felt restless and wide awake. I went home, but when I got there, I showered and changed, and then grabbed my keys and went to the baths. Even Babylon felt too real, too personal. I didn’t want to see anyone I knew. I just wanted to forget everything and everyone for a while.  
  
The next morning, after three hours of sleep, I walked into Gus’ room with three lattes from Starbucks and a bag of muffins. Melanie reached out for the coffee, drank it down, then looked at me. “Thanks. You look like hell.”  
  
I nodded. “You too.”  
  
She snorted, took another coffee, and carried it over to Lindsay, who was sitting on the cot near the window. Her hair was strained back in a ponytail, and she had pillow creases on her cheek.  
  
I tossed her the bag of muffins, and she peeked inside, and half-smiled. “Chocolate chip muffins. I knew I loved you for a reason.”  
  
I smiled a little then, too, and nodded. “Breakfast is the most important meal of the day. I’m a doctor. I know these things.”  
  
She broke a muffin in half, and took a bite.   
  
“Mama?” It was Gus’ voice from the bed.   
  
Melanie sat on the edge of his bed, and put her hand on his head. “I’m right here, baby. And here’s mommy and daddy, too.”   
  
Gus licked his lips, and Mel picked up a plastic cup with a straw in it from the bedside table. Gus drank some water, than lay his head back down.  
  
None of us said anything. The oncologist stopping in was just a formality. We all knew why we had to start the chemo right away. We all knew it was going to happen. But here we all were.  
  
I stared at my son, thinking about tiny little microscopic cancer cells, sprayed out from his shattered bone, spreading through his body. I tried to imagine the drugs chasing the cells down and destroying them, like some kind of biochemical attack dogs, even though I knew that wasn’t how it worked.   
  
Dr. Bordner came into the room. “Hey there, Gus. I heard you came through your surgery just fine.” She smiled at him brightly.  
  
He looked at her steadily for a minute, then hesitatingly smiled back. “I feel okay. Kind of sick to my stomach.”  
  
Bordner touched her hand to Gus’ head for a second, and nodded. “I know, kiddo. You’re going to feel pretty sick to your stomach for a few days, but we’ll try to give you some better medicine than last time.”  
  
I didn’t go out into the hall with the three of them. I sat with Gus and regaled him with the facts about tigers I’d gleaned from half an hour on the Discovery Channel website. He was enthralled, so much so that I started making things up when I ran out of actual facts. Hopefully someone would set him straight if he decided on a career in zoology. Currently he was still planning on being a paramedic, despite Justin’s counseling to the contrary.  
  
Gus started chattering away about wildebeest, a subject I had neglected to research online. I was beginning to think he was making stuff up, too, when an oncology nurse came in with a wheelchair to take Gus down. I promised I’d see him when he was done.   
  
I was standing outside the OR, reading the notes on a case I was about to take in, when my pager went off. I called down for the message, and they said it was from Lindsay, wanting me to come to Gus’ room as soon as I could. I hadn’t scrubbed in yet, and I had a few minutes, so I took the stairs and went up.  
  
Gus was curled up with Mel on the cot, and had obviously been throwing up. It had been around four hours since his chemo started, so we were right on schedule. Lindsay was white-lipped, and walked outside the room with me.  
  
“Do you know anything about this new anti-nausea drug they want to try?”  
  
I shook my head. “It’s something Bordner found out about from a pediatric pharmacist she consulted with. Did they try it?”  
  
She snorted. “No, they just gave him the same useless crap as last time. I paged Dr. Bordner but she hasn’t answered yet. I want him to get the new drug, and no one’s listening to me.”  
  
I went back into the room, and called Bordner’s office. “Elise? This is Brian Kinney. Is Dusty around?”  
  
They couldn’t find Bordner, so I took a breath and made myself smile. I’d read once it changed the tone of your voice over the phone, even if they couldn’t see you. “Well, Dusty prescribed a new anti-emetic for my son, Gus, and they gave him something else. Could you correct the order so we can get this vomiting under control?” I let my voice break a little. “He’s been throwing up for three hours now.”  
  
Elise swore she’d have the new meds up within fifteen minutes. I turned towards Lindsay. “I have to go to surgery. If those meds aren’t here by then, call Elise, and insist.” I hesitated. “Page me if they don’t come in half an hour.”  
  
She nodded, even though I had no idea what I’d do about it in the middle of surgery. Probably send an intern to drag Dusty Bordner to Gus’ room by her hair.  
  
The stabbing victim I was sewing back together was stable. The paramedics had gotten the bleeding under control at the scene, which always helped, and he was young and healthy. Unfortunately he was also a gang member, so I was probably just stitching him up so he could go out and get killed later on.   
  
I hadn’t heard from Lindsay, so I took a chance everything was okay, and showered before I went upstairs. The room looked exactly the same when I got there, and so did Gus. I stopped in the doorway. “Why didn’t you page me?”  
  
Lindsay barely glanced at me, just rubbing Gus’ back while he retched unproductively into a basin. “They gave him the new drug. It didn’t help.”  
  
“Mother fuck.” For once, neither Melanie nor Lindsay said anything about language.  
 **  
Justin’s POV**  
  
I had stopped off to see Gus three times since his surgery, but he was always either asleep, or too sick to do more than give me a weak smile. Daphne and I were standing out in the hall the third time, listening to him vomiting. I looked at Daph, and she was crying. I wrapped my arms around her.  
  
“Hey.” It was Brian, sounding tired.   
  
Daphne looked up, and scrubbed at her face with the back of her hand. “Sorry, Brian. It’s just sad.” Then she snapped her mouth shut.  
  
I hesitated, then let go of her and put my arms around Brian’s waist, lightly. He stiffened for a second, and I thought maybe I’d made a mistake, but he sighed and leaned into me.   
  
None of us said anything, and after a while, he pulled away and went in to see Gus. Daphne and I went back to the rig.  
  
We were just going out on a call when my cell phone rang. It was Brian.  
  
“When do you get off?”  
  
“Couple of hours. Are you home?”  
  
“On my way. Come over.”  
  
“Okay. Want me to bring anything, Thai food, a pizza?”  
  
I could almost hear him smile, even though he still sounded tired. “Just your ass.”  
  
I laughed. “It goes where I go.”  
  
Daphne glanced at me when I hung up, but we pulled up at the address so she didn’t say anything.  
  
After our shift, I used the locker room shower and then had Daphne drop me at Brian’s. He was standing in the loft door when I came up the stairs. He had a bottle of scotch in one fist, and he was wearing half-buttoned jeans and a white undershirt. He needed a shave and his hair was a mess.  
  
He stepped back with exaggerated care when I walked past him, and then leaned across the space between us and kissed me. I turned my face away at the last minute. The smell of alcohol made my eyes burn. “Jesus, Brian, what are you doing?”  
  
He laughed and walked slowly over to the sofa, his bare feet padding on the hardwood floor. He threw himself down on the cushions, and tipped the bottle back, draining it dry. He let it fall to the floor, and smiled at me. “I’m getting completely shit-faced. What does it look like I’m doing?”  
  
I sighed, and walked over to him, and stood looking down at him for a minute. I kept my voice gentle. “You need to take a shower and go to bed.”   
  
I held my hand out, but instead of me pulling him up, he pulled me down on top of him. I resisted for a second, but he spread his legs, and I let myself relax into him. He sighed, and put his hands in my hair.  
  
I thought he was falling asleep, or passing out, but when I tried to get up, he stopped me. “Don’t go.”  
  
I huffed. “Brian, come on, at least let’s go to bed. This can’t be comfortable.”  
  
He followed me docilely this time, but that was because he had another bottle of scotch on the bedside table. He picked it up and took another swallow, and then offered it to me. I took it, took a sip, and then carried it out into the kitchen. When I came back, he was looking at me with a confused expression. “Why did you put it all the way out there?”  
  
I walked over to him, and put my hands on the side of his face. “So you’d stop drinking it and go to sleep.”  
  
He stared at me, then nodded, and I started to undo his jeans the rest of the way. He apparently thought that was a good idea and tried to help, but despite that, I got him out of his pants. I pulled his t-shirt over his head, and pulled back the duvet.   
  
Brian lay down and watched me get undressed. I lay down next to him, and let him nestle against my back. I thought he’d fall asleep, but he sighed against my hair, and started talking.  
  
“Do you know how many drugs they put into Gus today?”  
  
I shook my head. “A lot, I’d guess. Pain meds, and chemo, and stuff for nausea. Antibiotics, because of the graft.”  
  
He nodded. I could feel it against the back of my head. Brian had his right arm across my chest, and his left was under me, and he wrapped them around me and pulled me in closer. I let my ass fit into his groin.  
  
“He puked for three hours without stopping before we got it under control.”  
  
My voice was really soft. “I’m sorry.”  
  
“Sorry’s bullshit.”  
  
I didn’t say anything.  
  
Brian’s voice was so quiet I could hardly hear him. “He’s just a little kid.”  
  
I turned around inside Brian’s arms, and touched his face. “He has parents who love him. That’s what matters.”  
  
He snorted. “I wouldn’t know anything about that.”  
  
I looked at him for a minute. “Me, neither. But you love your son.”  
  
He didn’t say anything at first. “It’s funny. When Lindsay first asked me to donate sperm, I didn’t think I would.”  
  
“Didn’t think you’d love him?”  
  
“No.”  
  
“But you do.”   
  
He pulled me in closer. “Yeah. For some reason. Somehow. I do.”  
  
I kissed the side of his face. “Then that’s all that matters. That’s all you can do. Just love him and make sure he knows it.”  
  
There were tears in Brian’s eyes, but he didn’t blink and so I pretended not to see them. I tucked my head under his chin. “Go to sleep, Brian.”  
  
I felt his arms get even tighter around me, and he worked his left arm up so his hand was in my hair. I let him pet me until he finally stopped, and I could tell by his breathing he’d fallen asleep. I lay awake, though, for a long time.


	4. Pulse Point, Chapter 4

**Pulse Point, Chapter Four**  
By Xie

**Brian’s POV**

I slid the door shut as quietly as I could. The loft was dark, just the glow from the windows painting long shadows on the floor.

I shrugged off my jacket and left it on the kitchen counter, and went into the bedroom. I stepped out of my shoes and stripped off my clothes, letting everything drop silently into a pile at my feet.

I could see Justin’s body under the duvet, his legs tucked up, one hand curled under his cheek, the other lying on the pillow next to his face. I slid under the covers and pressed myself up against his back. He felt warm, and I realized for the first time that I was cold. It had finally stopped snowing, but the temperature was frigid.

I let Justin’s backside soak warmth into me, and slipped my hand between his thighs. I felt his balls against the back of my hand, and turned it over to cup them in my palm.

He pushed his hips back into my crotch and murmured a little, and I leaned over him. He turned his face, and kissed me, his mouth drowsy and hot. He didn’t open his eyes, just turned over, rolling into me, arms and legs opening up and pulling me closer.

I rested my fingers against his lips, and he licked and sucked them until they were wet. I moved my hand back down, and slipped one finger inside him, bending it a little, softening and stretching him. He arched against my hand, and let me go in deeper. I teased his prostate, then pulled my finger back, and slipped a second one inside him.

I heard Justin swallow, and looked at his face. His eyes were open, and his lips were curved into a smile. I kissed him, then trailed my tongue along his jaw, up to his ear. “Does that feel good?”

He smiled, and brushed my hair back with his hand. “Yeah.”  I kept stroking him inside with my fingers, watching his face.

He dropped his head onto my shoulder, his words choked off. “Brian…”

I pressed my fingers deeper into him, and let the tip of my third finger lie alongside them, not quite in him, but almost. I felt him bend a little at the waist and pull his knees up, opening himself more. He was bearing down against the pressure, and I eased the third finger in, fucking his ass with my fingers, and his mouth with my tongue.

He tried to straighten his legs to get his cock back up against mine, but then my fingers weren’t touching his prostate anymore, and he pulled his knees back up again. His hole was too tight for me to move my third finger any deeper. He was sucking frantically on my tongue, almost squirming against my hand, and I reached behind myself, blindly, feeling for the lube.

I eased my fingers out of his ass, and he rolled over the minute I did, going onto his hands and knees next to me. I let the lube drizzle over my fingers, and stroked down his crack and pressed back into his hole, lubing him and letting him fuck himself on my hand again. I ripped the condom open with my teeth, and pulled my hand away from his ass to put it on. He stayed on his knees, his face buried in his arms.

I knelt behind him, and pressed on the insides of his thighs. He spread his legs further apart, and I pushed my cock into his ass in one slow thrust. He was hot and tight, and he reached behind me and grabbed my thigh, pulling me deeper into him. I pressed my forehead into the back of his neck, and fucked him. I felt his ass grasping at my cock, and I bit my lip and made myself not come, my mouth full of his hair, my hands on his hips.

He wouldn’t let me move my right hand down off his hip to his cock, swatting it fiercely away. I gripped his hips and thrust into him, trying to keep him on the edge of coming, and keep myself from going over it. It wasn’t any use, though. When I tried to grasp his cock again, he let me, and I slicked the wetness from the head down over his shaft.

His ass clenched on my cock the minute my fist clenched on him, and he arched his back up and said, “Fuck, oh fuck, Brian…” and I felt his come pumping out onto my hand. I tried to fuck him all the way through it, but I couldn’t, and froze deep inside him, my come pulsing into him, my hand still closed on his dick.

I finally fell on him, gasping, and he collapsed to the bed under me. My heart was pounding against his back. I almost fell asleep inside him, but pulled out and got rid of the condom before I did. He turned over, and we lay there, our arms and legs tangled together. I didn’t think about anything. I just breathed in his smell and felt his heart beating against my palm, and fell asleep.

When I woke up, the clock said it was past noon, so I slipped out of bed and went into the kitchen. I was waiting for the coffee to be ready when my cell phone rang. Without taking my eyes off the little “ready” light, I flipped it open. It was Lindsay.

“Good morning!” She actually sounded cheerful. We were both heavily specializing in denial at the moment, since Gus was currently home between chemo courses.

“Yeah.”

I heard her laugh. “Someone hasn’t had his coffee. I was just calling to see if you and Justin wanted to come to dinner tonight.”

“I’m working tonight, and you’ll have to ask Justin yourself. I don’t have his schedule tattooed to the inside of my eyelids.” The red light on the coffeemaker came on, and I poured two cups. I cradled the phone between my ear and shoulder, and carried them both into the bedroom. Justin was sitting up, his hair falling across his face. He looked at me blankly, and I held the cup out to him. He stared at it for a second, and then took it.

I sat on the bed. Lindsay was chattering away about Gus and seeing if we could get him to the park if it was nice later today, and I lay back against the pillows, sipped my coffee, and let her words just kind of float over me.

“Brian?” She sounded equal parts amused and irritated.

“Hmmmm?”

“Are you listening to me at all?”

“Not a word.”

She laughed. “Is Justin there?”

I sighed. “Yes.”

“Can you put him on?”

“He’s less capable at the moment than I am of coherent thought or speech.”

Justin held out his hand, and I put the phone in it. “Hi, Lindsay. What’s up?”

He listened for a minute, and I saw him smile. “I have to work tonight, but I’ll come by tomorrow and help you take him to the park if you want.” He listened again, then laughed, and handed the phone back to me.

“Tell Gus I said bye.” I hung up the phone.

I set my empty cup on the table next to the bed, and slid back down under the duvet. Justin had gotten up and was in the bathroom, and by the time he came back, I’d fallen back to sleep. When I woke up again, I could hear the faint sound of a pencil moving over paper, and I knew Justin was drawing me.

I’d been surprised a couple of weeks before, when I’d found one of his sketchbooks open on the coffee table, and a picture of me, sleeping, on the page.

“When the fuck did you draw this?” Which was a stupid question, given that I was asleep, and naked, and in my bed.

He gave a small smile. “While you were sleeping last night.”

I’d acted offended, but he just picked up the sketchbook, closed it, and put it in his portfolio. And kept drawing me whenever he felt like it.

That day, I opened one eye, and his pencil froze. “Can I sit up?”

He nodded. “Yeah, I’m pretty much done.”

I sat up, and he held it out to me. I looked at it, and shook my head. “Why do you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Draw me with bed head all the time?”

“Because you won’t sit still when you’re awake.” He grinned at me, knelt on the mattress, and crawled over to me, sketchbook still in his hands.

I took it from him, and tossed it over onto the ledge on the far side of the bed. He smiled even harder, and leaned into me.

I kissed him, resting my weight on one elbow, my other arm around his waist. I tugged him across me, and he laughed and let himself fall.

His mouth tasted like toothpaste and coffee, and his lips were soft and warm. I kissed him for a long time, pulling his clothes away from him, tugging the sheet away from my legs. When I got them free, I flipped him onto his back, and he wrapped himself around me. It was a long, slow fuck, and when he came against my stomach and chest it was burning hot, just like the feeling that unfolded from the base of my spine and spilled out of my cock into him.

We didn’t fall back to sleep, just lay there not saying anything for a while. Finally, I grunted and got up. “Did you drink all the coffee?”

He laughed and shook his head. “It’s in the thermos.”

I found the coffee, and poured a cup. Then I looked at the clock and swore. It was 3 in the afternoon.

“Justin, do you know what time it is?”

“Yes.” He sounded patient.

“I have to be at work at 6, and I need to go to the gym. I’m meeting my new trainer.”

“Well, go.” Now he sounded reasonable. I hated that.

I figured I’d get all sweaty at the gym, so I didn’t shower, although I scrubbed Justin’s dried come off my stomach. I looked up while I was doing it, and he was standing in the doorway of the bathroom, his arms folded across his chest, trying not to laugh.

I threw the wet towel at him, and he did laugh. “Can you drop me at my place, or are you in too big a hurry?”

I sighed. “I’ll take you, if you’re ready.”

“Brian?”

I was leaning across the counter, rubbing moisturizer into my face. “What?”

“You’re the one who’s naked.”

I looked at him again, and noticed he was dressed. I pulled the towel from around my waist, but by the time I’d thrown it at him, he was gone.

I dropped him off at his apartment building, and went to the gym. I got to the hospital at 6, and was sitting in the senior staff office, catching up on my notes, when the pager went off. And that was the last time I sat down until midnight.

**Justin’s POV**

Daphne and I were sitting at a table in the diner, CNN on in the background, with the sound off. She was stealing my French fries. I looked pointedly at the uneaten salad on her plate. “Why do you ask to substitute a salad for fries, and then not eat the salad, and eat my fries?”

She put a fry in her mouth, and thought about it. “I eat fewer fries this way.”

“Just have them give you half an order, then. That salad’s going to waste.”

She picked up a tomato and ate it. “Now it’s not.” Then she made a face. “Eeeuuuww.”

“It’s winter. It’s a diner. It’s a tomato. What did you expect?” I blocked her hand from sneaking another fry off my plate.

“You,” she said, “suck.”

I nodded. “It’s true. And really well, too. Ask anyone.”

She snorted her soda into her nose. Debbie was walking by, and stopped and slapped her hard on the back, which just made her cough more. “Do you need the Heimlich maneuver, hon?” Debbie’s earrings jangled with concern.

Daphne shook her head and choked out that she was okay.

“If she can talk, her airway isn’t obstructed,” I informed Debbie.

“Uh huh. Well, you’re the paramedics.” She gave a barking laugh, and started re-filling coffee cups on the next table.

Daphne looked at me thoughtfully. “My mom said your mother called again.”

I didn’t look at her.

She took a breath. “She’s left your dad.”

I froze. “She what?”

“She told my mother that she left your father, and she wants to see you.”

I looked at Daphne, and her brow was wrinkled up, and she was frowning. I gave a bitter laugh. “Took her long enough. What do you suppose, he tried to beat the crap out of Molly’s boyfriend, too? Run him down on the street with his car? Smack Molly around?”

I started to get up. I felt like I couldn’t breathe.

Daphne grabbed my wrist. “Justin. Stop.”

I hesitated, and then sat back down. I kept my eyes on my plate, but finally looked at her.

“Justin, if you don’t want to talk to her, don’t talk to her. But maybe you should listen to what she has to say. It’s been six years. She must be sorry.”

I snorted. “Sorry’s bullshit.”

Daphne started to say something, but I cut her off. “I don’t want to talk to her. I don’t care what she has to say.”

Daphne nodded, and looked sad. But this time, when I got up, she didn’t try to stop me.

I got into the rig, and a few minutes later she climbed into the driver’s side. She looked at me for a second, and I stared out the window, my arms crossed over my chest.

The silence was getting way too heavy, when the radio blasted into life. “Need a unit to respond to Allegheny Trauma to transport personnel to scene.”

We took it, and headed back towards the dispatch center. “What’s the scene like, dispatch?”

“Partial building collapse after a fire. They’re doing an in-field amputation.”

I looked at Daphne. Field amputations were a last resort, and I’d never seen one before. I kind of hoped I didn’t have to see this one.

Fortunately, we picked up a whole team, including Brian. He grinned at me when I opened the back for them, and hung back to be the last one, so he could grab my ass on his way in. I laughed, and just as I was slamming the door, one of the nurses caught my eye and then glanced at Brian, a knowing look on her face. I felt myself blushing while I went around and got into the passenger seat.

The whole group was laughing and shouting in the back, and I twisted around so I could see them. “You’re very cheerful, considering you’re on your way to cut a leg off in a collapsed building.

The nurse who’d caught Brian groping me laughed. “Brian loves the meatball surgery.”

Brian looked at her scornfully. “That must explain why I asked for you on my team.”

She just raised an eyebrow at him, and he laughed, and I wondered who she was.

A firefighter was opening the back door before we even stopped moving, so I didn’t get a chance to see Brian again until they were loading the guy into the back of the rig. We drove back to the hospital with lights and sirens, and I heard Brian talking to his patient in the back.

“Motherfucker, you are _not_ dying on me. I didn’t cut your fucking leg off while I was fucking lying in a freezing puddle, so you could die on the way to the hospital.”

I looked back at them. “Need anything?”

The nurse shook her head. “We’ve got it. Just get us there.”

Daphne hadn’t taken her eyes off the road, and we got them there as fast as we could on the icy streets. The trauma team met us at the ambulance bay, and Brian and the nurse – I’d heard him call her Cynthia – went with them.

Daphne and I finished putting the gurney in the back, and she was inside the rig checking what needed restocking. I jumped down from the back, walked around towards the passenger side door, and saw Brian leaning against the side of the ambulance. He was smiling, and bounced towards me when he saw me.

I laughed. “It’s kind of disturbing how excited you are to be chopping off legs in burned out buildings.”

He pulled me up close, and put his hands on either side of my face. “I don’t chop, I skillfully and carefully disconnect the tissues, joints, and vasculature, resulting not only in the acclaim of my professional colleagues for my brilliance, but the saving of a human life.” His eyes were bright, and he was almost laughing.

I wrapped my hands around the back of his neck, and smiled. “Your skill is apparently exceeded only by your humility.”

He smiled at me, and I thought for a minute I’d never seen him look happier. I couldn’t stop smiling back at him, even when his mouth was on mine, and his tongue was licking at my lips.

Brian dropped his hands to my upper arms, and pulled me even closer. I went up on my toes, opening my mouth for his tongue, feeling his warm breath against my face.

He broke away and looked into my eyes for a second. We were both somehow still smiling, and he touched his forehead to mine.

“God, don’t you two ever get enough?” It was Daphne, coming around the side of the rig.

I started to pull away, but Brian didn’t take his eyes away from mine, or stop smiling. “There’s no such thing as enough, Daphne. Don’t you know that?” Then he kissed me again.

I finally broke away from him, and we both laughed a little. He let his chin rest on my head for a second. He shivered a little. “It’s freezing.”

I slid my arms inside his leather jacket, and pressed myself against him. “I have to go.”

I felt him nodding, and looked up at him. He touched my forehead with his one more time. “Come by the loft when you get off.”

“Okay. Later.”

He let go of me. “Later.”

I watched him walk back into the hospital, and just before he went in, I saw him glance back over his shoulder. I smiled.

I opened the door to the rig, and looked at Daphne. “Not one word.” But I was still smiling. I couldn’t help it.

“Did I say anything?” She was smiling, too.

“Good. Drive.” I shut the door, and we drove back to the dispatch center to finish restocking and wait for another call. We were hanging out in the break room with a couple of other teams when a call came over the radio, telling all available units to head to the shopping strip out by the museum. It looked like the shooters were back.

We got to the scene and it was complete chaos. There was no police line, there were emergency vehicles standing around with no one near them, and there was a huge cluster of federal agents arguing with the Pittsburgh cops. Daphne and I glanced at each other, then leaned against the rig, waiting to see what was going on.

A harried looking woman with a clipboard jogged over to us. “I’m the scene coordinator. While the local guys and the feds battle out who gets to use the sound system, we need all of you down behind the supermarket.”

We drove down the road behind the shopping plaza, and found a sort of rough triage area set up. There were two EMT teams there already, and we scooped and ran with an elderly woman with a belly wound that looked bad. We dropped her off, then headed back.

When we got back to the scene, things were still a mess, but the police had at least gotten the perimeter secured. A cop pulled back the barricade and let us through. The feds had won the turf war, and a guy in an FBI jacket was holding the microphone for the loudspeaker.

Daphne pulled into an empty space next to another ambulance, and we jumped out. The other team was standing next to their rig, talking in low voices.

“Hey.” One of the guys nodded at us when we walked up.

“What’s going on?”

The other guy shook his head. “It looks like there’s five or six shooters down behind the dumpsters at the far end of the parking lot. They’ve got three cars, and we think they have some hostages, but no one’s really sure. Every time the FBI starts talking, they start blaring their car horns.”

“Fuck.” I heard gunfire when I said that, and all four of us turned towards the sound.

I heard someone shout, “Get down!” and another burst of laughter and horns honking from where the shooters were holed up behind the dumpsters. There was more gunfire, and then the guy from the FBI started talking into the loudspeaker again.

The minute he did, the car horns went off, and they kept blaring for a long time.

I looked over at where the FBI guys were standing, and saw the one with the loudspeaker put his microphone down. He was shaking his head.

The four of us looked at each other again.

The site coordinator came over, her clipboard clutched against her, a walky talky in her hand. She was talking rapidly into it, and punched it off with a curt “okay” when she got up to us. “We’ve got a guy down in one of the stores, but the scene isn’t fully secure. Are you all in vests?

Daphne and I nodded, and the other guys did too, a second later. I glanced at Daph. “I’ll go.”

Daphne put her hand on my arm, and the guys from the other team relaxed a little. “I’ll go with you.”

The coordinator shook her head. “Only one of you. We’ll send a cop with you. We’re not bringing him out until it’s secured, unless we have to. Just see if he’s stable enough to wait. Let’s go.”

I grabbed the case from the back of the rig, and sprinted after her. We got to where the cops were clustered, near the FBI station. The coordinator gestured at me. “He’ll go in, cover him.”

One of the cops jerked his head at me. “You’ve got a vest?” I nodded, and pulled my jacket back a little. He gestured towards the row of stores. “The furniture place next to the dry cleaner.”

He motioned to me to go ahead of him, along the inside of the walkway nearest the buildings. I went out to the left and then came back around a pillar, moving into the shadows. He was next to me, and a little behind. Just when I got near the door, I heard the car horns blare again, and I jumped.

The car horns kept honking, and I heard more gunfire. But it was like everything I was hearing was out of sync with what I was seeing, because I swore that there was absolutely no sound, none at all, when the cop next to me gave a hard jerk with his body, and fell to the ground.

I knelt down next to him and felt for the pulse in his neck, and then I heard sounds again, more gunfire and more car horns, drowning out the cop’s moans. I could see his lips moving, but his eyes were closed.

I scrambled onto my knees and grabbed him under his arms, and pulled him into the doorway of the store. I pushed it open with one hand, then shoved him all the way inside.

It was somehow not any quieter in there, and I sat on the floor for a second, trying to make my mind work, and wondering why it wasn’t. I turned to grab my bag, and realized it was still outside the door.

I crawled over and pulled the door open a crack. The noise was still deafening, but my bag was only a few feet away. I crawled outside to grab it, and then everything went quiet again. No gunshots, no car horns. Just a blaze of fire across my left thigh. And then another one.

I didn’t even wonder what it was, I just grabbed my bag and pulled it inside the store, letting the door swing shut. I sat there, just for a second, and then I heard sounds again. No more horns, just gunfire, coming from all directions, long and loud.

I shook my head, and crawled back over to the cop. I checked his pulse and respiration, and he seemed relatively stable. I pulled my gloves on, cut his shirt away, and bandaged the gunshot wound on his upper arm. I frowned. I didn’t know why he was unconscious. Maybe he’d hit his head when he fell, or I’d hit it on something when I pulled him through the door.

I examined his head, and swore. It was lying in a small pool of blood.

I bandaged it as best I could without any help and without all my equipment. There wasn’t anything more I could do until we got out of there.

I picked up my bag and started to stand up to go check on the guy I’d come out here to see, when a wall of pain fell on me. I pitched face forward onto the floor, my bag spinning out of my hands and across the room.

I felt pain and sweat and the pulsing of nausea, and I swallowed bile. I looked down at my left leg, and saw that there was blood everywhere.

I shook my head. I looked across the room at my bag, and the man lying five feet away from it, against the wall.

I sat up, fighting the feeling I was going to black out. I pulled off my jacket, and then, panting and sweating, tried to take off my bulletproof vest so I could get to my shirt. I needed to rip some of it off to make a pressure bandage until I could get to my bag and get the tourniquet kit. I struggled with the fastenings, but I couldn’t do it.

I breathed in and out shallowly for a few seconds, then took a deep breath and lunged back over to the cop. I took a section of the shirt I’d cut off of him, and used it to make a pad. I pressed it, hard, against the bloody wound on my leg, and almost blacked out with the pain.

But I held on.

After a few minutes, I felt a little less dizzy, and I carefully moved towards the other guy. I needed to check on him, and I needed to get a tourniquet and some Celox out of my case and stop my own bleeding, too. I was dimly aware of more gunshots outside, and the sound of car engines and sirens, but I ignored it all.

I just dragged myself slowly across the floor. I stopped when the pain exploded. I stopped when the nausea got so bad I couldn’t keep from vomiting on the floor next to me. I stopped when I felt another wave of dizziness, and when it passed, I looked at my hand, holding the bandage on my leg.

It was covered in blood.

I pushed myself over to the wall, and grabbed the bag by its strap. I crawled to the man, and checked his pulse. It was faint. He had a bad wound to his chest, some minor wounds to his arms, and he’d lost a lot of blood.

He was still bleeding heavily, and I dug in the case for a pack of Celox. I was sweating, and I shook my hair out of my eyes. That triggered another wave of pain and dizziness, but the minute it lifted, I ripped the package open.

I was shaking, and it took two tries before I got it open all the way. I had to kneel up and reach across him, and I had to let go of the pressure bandage on my leg. But I got the Celox into the wound that was still bleeding, and then I lowered myself carefully next to him. I needed to stop my own bleeding before I bandaged him, so I pulled the tourniquet out of my bag. I tried to open it, but my hands weren’t working. I felt it drop out of my fingers onto the floor.

It was dark in the store, and it had finally gotten quiet outside. Or maybe it was that time delay thing again. I didn’t know. There was a ring of black around the edge of my field of vision, and I heard a soft buzzing sound in my ears.

I wondered what it was, and then I closed my eyes.

**Brian’s POV**

I was heading upstairs to check on the guy whose leg I’d amputated in the field, when my pager went off. It was a 911 to the ER, so I turned and went back down the stairs.

Surgical recovery always felt kind of hushed and urgent at the same time, but the ER was usually chaos. At its best it was organized chaos, and tonight was definitely not its best. There were patients everywhere. A few firefighters from earlier were hanging around, and there were a lot of bodies on gurneys and beds in the halls.

Cynthia was standing near the doors to one of the trauma rooms, waving me in. She looked grim. “More shootings.”

I looked at her. “Fuck.” She just nodded.

I shoved into the room with my shoulder, in time to hear the word “clear.”  I waited until they got a rhythm again, and started probing the gunshot wound in the kid’s abdomen. Cynthia looked at my face, and then turned back to the patient.

“What?” I knew that look meant something.

“This is one of the shooters.” Her voice was flat.

I didn’t hesitate, not even for a second, but when we had to stand back a second time and shock him, I stared at his face. Wondering how a kid this young got so fucked up. Wondering if he was the one who laughed when he shot Gus.

We got a rhythm back, and I took him up to surgery.

When I was done, I stopped in recovery to finally check on the amputation case. I saw Telson, the head of vascular surgery, walking towards the OR. He glared at me while he went past me. He’d told me in a staff meeting once that I lacked discipline.

“What you mean is that I won’t take your shit,” I’d told him, and Vance gave me the look that meant, “Shut up now, Brian, and let me fix this.” I’d gotten up and left. Telson had never liked me much since.

I was getting a report from the nurse when my pager went off again. Another 911 to the ER. I cursed, and headed downstairs one more time. A nurse I didn’t recognize met me in the hall. “Dr. Kinney?”

I nodded, and kept moving. “What now?”

 “Multiple GSW to the thigh coming in, LOC, shocky, loss of blood, it missed the bone, but it looks like the femoral artery is shredded. We notified vascular, but they’re all in surgery right now.”

I nodded, and pushed into the room. I was pulling on my gloves when I looked down at the table.

It’s funny what your mind does sometimes. I knew it was Justin instantly. I was looking right at his face. But even while I started looking at the wound on his left thigh, I was coming up with all the reasons it wasn’t actually him.

They’d cut his pants away, and taken off his jacket, so he wasn’t in his uniform. I’d just seen him a few hours ago, and he was wearing his uniform. I remembered it.

And it’s true that Justin was pale, but not this dead white. And his lips were soft and warm, not blue. And Justin’s hair wasn’t matted with blood.

And Justin didn’t have a raw jagged hole in his thigh, spilling over with blood.

They’d pumped in saline in the field. They were pumping in blood right now, but it was still spurting out of him, bright red and sticky.

I dug in his mangled tissue for the source of the blood, but it was pooling everywhere, and I couldn’t find it. They were intubating and bagging him, but I ignored that. I heard a voice next to me, Cynthia, and she was telling someone to find Vance. I ignored her, too, and kept trying to clamp off the fucking artery. But I couldn’t find it.

I didn’t hear the monitors or anything anyone was saying, so Cynthia had to pull my hands off him. “Brian.”

I looked at her blankly for a second. She had the paddles in her hand, and I took them from her. She resisted briefly, but she let me take them, and said “200” in a clear voice.

I put them on Justin’s chest and said, “Clear.” He jerked under my hands, and I looked at the monitor. Nothing. I said “300.” And then “Clear.” And he jerked again, this time harder. And it was like a thousand hours, it was forever, but my ears stopped roaring and I heard the steady beeping of the monitor. I let Cynthia take the paddles, and asked for a scalpel. I had to cut back to find the artery.

I heard her hissing behind me, “I don’t give a fuck if Vance is in surgery, get him, get someone. This is his boyfriend. Find someone. Now.”

I hadn’t hesitated for a second to save that kid, the shooter, but I stood there with the blade in my hand long enough that everyone was staring at me. It was probably only one or two seconds. I cut into the muscle but I still couldn’t find the source of the bleeding. Bullets did weird things to soft tissue, and nothing was where it should have been.

Blood was filling the wound, and overflowing its edges. I shook my head and glanced at Justin’s face again, and went back into the wound. Then Telson came and pushed me out of the way.

Justin was still bleeding when they wheeled him out of the room and up to surgery. I pulled off my bloody gloves and gown, and dropped them on the floor.


	5. Pulse Point, Chapter 5

**Pulse Point, Chapter Five**  
By Xie

**Justin’s POV**

The first thing I heard was a woman’s voice saying “in the morning.” That was it.

The next thing I heard was a soft, slightly familiar voice saying my name, but I couldn’t open my eyes or, it seemed, move. I wasn’t sure where I was, but I didn’t care or even feel anything at all. I just drifted off again.

The next thing I was aware of was pain. It started very faintly and got stronger and stronger, until I realized I was actually squeezing my eyes shut against it.

I opened them.

The room was dim, but full of blinking lights. At first I didn’t hear anything, but a few seconds after I opened my eyes I realized I was hearing beeps and buzzes and a few clanking noises.

“You’re awake. Hold on, let me get the tube out.”

I blinked, and noticed there was a tube in my mouth. I didn’t even wonder about it, just blew out when she told me to, then coughed until she gave me some water.

I lay back on the pillow, and the pain I’d been feeling suddenly localized to my left thigh, and I felt tears in my eyes. She smiled softly, and touched my hand, then fumbled around at the IV stand.

A few minutes later the pain started getting less focused, and even though it throbbed in the background and never really went away, I faded out again.

The next time I woke up, I felt something warm wrapped around one hand, and something sharp in the other. The pain in my thigh had woken me up. I moaned. The warmth on my right hand tightened.

“Justin?” I opened my eyes, and looked at Daphne’s face. She looked tired, and like she’d been crying. I licked my lips, and closed my eyes again.

I felt her arm slipping under my neck, and she cradled my head and supported it while she let me sip some water through a straw.

“Hurts.” My voice was hoarse. She nodded, and pushed a button. “You can give yourself more morphine when you push this button.” I didn’t understand anything except “more morphine.” Sounded good to me. I waited for the pain to die back a little, watching her sit down and pick up my hand again.

She smiled, even though it was a pretty lame attempt. I blinked.

“Do you remember what happened?” Her voice was soft.

I shook my head, but that hurt, too, so I stopped.

She hesitated. “Do you remember our last call?”

I thought back. “The shooters?”

She nodded. “You went in after a guy who’d been shot, then you and a cop got shot. Do you remember?”

“I got shot?”

“Yeah. In the left thigh.” Well, that explained the fact that my left thigh felt like it was being sliced into and burned at the same time.

She went on. “Then you had surgery. Do you remember that at all?”

“No.” My voice was just a whisper. I wished I could have some more water, and after a second it occurred to me I could ask for some, so I did. She helped me drink it, and when I was done, I realized the pain was starting to fade. Then I thought of one more thing. “Where’s Brian?”

She didn’t answer right away, and I was almost asleep when I heard her say, “He’s downstairs.” And then I was out.

Brian’s POV

I was leaning against the rough backroom wall. I had my eyes closed, and there was nothing except the beat of the music moving into my body, through the floor, and the warm, wet mouth surrounding my cock.

I arched my head back, my palms flat on the wall. I felt my heart speed up. I pumped into the guy’s mouth, and the hot tingle of an orgasm started to build inside me. It flared up fast, and burned out of me even faster.

After a minute I could hear the music again, and I pushed my dick in my jeans, buttoned them up, and went back out to the bar.

Justin’s POV

At first all I did was sleep, wake up, ask for more drugs, and fall asleep again. I didn’t know how many days had gone by, and I didn’t even feel curious about anything. I just tried to fall asleep when the pain was pushed down enough that I could almost ignore it, and keep the periods when the pain wasn’t pushed down as short as possible.

Every time I opened my eyes, Daphne was there.

One minute I was sleeping, having a very strange dream about a box that kept sliding out of my hands no matter how hard I tried to hold onto it, and the next minute I was wide awake. Daphne was sitting there, just like she had been all along, but instead of a vague acceptance of that, I found myself wondering how long she’d actually been in my room.

She had a magazine in her lap, and I tried to talk, but my throat was incredibly dry. She glanced up, and smiled at me. I tried to sit up, and she was helping me, bringing a glass of water to my mouth, almost before I took a breath. It all felt really familiar.

I lay back down, and looked at her. She smiled again, and sat on the edge of the bed.

“You’re really awake.”

“Yeah. I think. How long have I been out of it?”

She shrugged. “Five days, a little more.”

Fuck. “Have you been here the whole time?”

She gave another shrug. “More or less. I went home to sleep a couple of times.”

I felt the pain in my thigh throb, and then fade out, replaced by a strange feeling in my stomach. I was just about to ask where Brian was, when something, either the feeling in my stomach or the look in her eyes, stopped me. I shut my mouth.

She bit her lip, and then brightened a little. “Are you hungry? I can get the nurses to bring you something, they all adore you.”

I frowned. “How can they adore me? I’ve been asleep.”

“Because you’re a hero.”

“I’m a what?” What the fuck was she talking about?

“You saved that cop’s life, and the guy who was shot in the store. They say that without what you did, they’d both be dead.”

Nothing she was saying made any sense to me at all. She must have seen that on my face.

“Don’t you remember?”

I shook my head. “Not really. I remember… I don’t know, I remember the car horns blasting.” I thought for a minute. “I dropped my case.” I tried for more, but the pain in my thigh suddenly exploded, and I gasped.

Daphne was all over me, giving me the little morphine button and telling me to push it. I did, and waited, but the pain just kept getting worse. I felt my eyes sting with tears. Daphne got up and went out of the room, and came back with two nurses. One of them injected something into the IV catheter in my left hand, and the other one changed the setting on my IV bag.

Nothing changed for a while, and the three of them tried to distract me, but the pain was beating in my leg in time with my heart, like an agonizing pulse all through my body. I couldn’t really even hear what they were saying, and I broke out in a sweat. I started to cry, and tried not to, but I couldn’t stop.

Brian’s POV

“Brian?” It was Lindsay’s voice. “What are you doing out here? It’s freezing.”

I sighed, and looked up from my intense contemplation of the ground under my shoes. “Seeking ten seconds of quiet.” I looked at her pointedly. I knew Gus didn’t have an appointment today.

“I’m visiting Justin.”

I stood up. “I have to go.”

She called after me, but I went back inside.

Justin’s POV

The doctor was standing at the foot of my bed, talking in a low voice to the nurse. I’d been asleep, so it didn’t bother me that they were talking about me like I wasn’t there. I cleared my throat, and she looked at me, and smiled.

“Hi, Justin, I’m Dr. Peyton. How are you feeling?”

I thought about it for a few seconds. “I don’t know. Not great.” I blinked. “My leg hurts.”

She nodded. “You had an arterial graft, do you know what that is?”

 “Yes.” I hadn’t known that. “What happened?”

 “Don’t you remember?” She was frowning.

I avoided the question. “Daphne said I got shot.”

“You had to have emergency surgery, and you lost a lot of blood.” She paused. “You’re doing well, really well, but you’re going to have to have a second surgery down the road.” Then her face relaxed, and she smiled. “The good news is, though, that the pain should probably be substantially reduced by tonight. That’s when the worst of the swelling should start to abate, and you’ll do a lot better.”

I nodded. I’d believe it when it happened. “Where’s Daphne?”

The nurse answered. “She went to get something to eat. She’ll be right back.”

I closed my eyes, and could still hear them talking quietly while I fell back to sleep.

When I woke up, I still heard voices talking, and thought maybe I’d only slept for a second. But after a while I decided it was Daphne and someone else. I didn’t open my eyes, just listened, and eventually I realized it was Lindsay, because she said something about Gus.

I opened my eyes. And Lindsay smiled at me, a huge, warm smile. I couldn’t help smiling back.

“Justin.” She came over to the bed and leaned down and gave me a gentle hug. I hugged her back, carefully, because of the IV in my left hand, and because I still hurt, despite the doctor’s promise.

“Hey, Lindsay.” I wanted to ask her about Gus, but that made me think of Brian, and that made my throat close up, so I didn’t say anything else.

“How are you, sweetie?” She gave me the look I’d seen her give Gus, and she stroked my hair back out of my eyes. I remembered telling Brian I needed to get it cut, and him telling me not to, that it was hot. I tried to smile at her, but it didn’t work.

She settled into the chair next to the bed. “Gus sent his love. And Mel did, too. They’re going to try to come see you in a few days.”

I nodded. “Tell Gus I miss him, and I said hi.” She smiled brightly at that, and I listened to her talk about Gus, and JR being home again, and didn’t really say anything. She finally squeezed my hand and said she’d let me rest.

I looked at her. “Lindsay?”

Her face was soft. “Do you need something, Justin?”

I really didn’t want it to come out sounding pathetic, but of course it did. “Where’s Brian?”

She spoke very slowly. “Has he been to see you at all?”

I could see Daphne behind her, biting her lip. I ignored her. “No.”

Her voice was really gentle. “I’m not sure, Justin.” She hesitated. “Do you want me to talk to him?”

I shook my head. I couldn’t talk, because I was going to cry. I could see the concern on her face, and Daphne looked half furious and half like she was about to cry, too. I shook my head again, and managed to get my voice under control. “Could I… I think I’d just like to go to sleep. Okay?”

Lindsay leaned down and kissed the top of my head. “Get some rest, Justin. I’ll see you later. And I’ll tell Gus you said hi.”

I gritted my teeth and didn’t say anything. I didn’t even dare to close my eyes, because I was fucking crying again, and it would have made the tears roll out. Fortunately she left, and Daphne followed her into the hall. I didn’t even care if they were talking about me. I just closed my eyes, and let the tears roll down the side of my face, and tried to get to sleep before Daphne came back in.

I was still awake when she came and stood by the bed. I silently willed her to go away.

“I know you’re awake.”

I didn’t answer. She sat down, and I turned so my face was pressed against her arm. My voice was tight. “It’s really bullshit.”

“No, it’s not.”

I rolled a little away, and wiped my arm across my eyes. “Yeah, it really is. It’s complete bullshit. And the other thing that’s bullshit is the fact that I give a fuck.” I opened my eyes and looked at her. “And do not go talk to him. Promise me.”

She frowned.

“Promise.”

“I promise.” I knew she didn’t want to, but I knew she’d keep her word.

Daphne sat there, not moving, until I really did fall asleep.

Brian’s POV

I was standing in the hall. It was brightly lit, even though it was the middle of the night, and all the rooms were dark. Most of the doors were closed, except for a few with patients needing more monitoring.

Justin’s was closed. No one was paying any attention to me, and I just stood looking through the window in his door, resting my forehead against the glass.

I’d been at Babylon, and was still drunk, drunk enough that I shouldn’t have driven to the hospital. Maybe I’d sleep in the lounge before I left.

Justin was tossing his head, and I could tell from the way his brow was wrinkled, and his eyes were shut tight, that he was in pain. I wanted to tell the nurse to up his meds, but I wasn’t his doctor.

I waited for him to settle back to sleep, but he didn’t. I stepped back to the wall, and leaned against it, thinking he’d probably wake up and give himself more morphine. I’d seen him do that several times over the last few nights.

After a couple of minutes, I looked back in the window. He was lying quietly, although his face still looked strained, even in his sleep.

A nurse passed by, and didn’t even look at me.

I kept watching him, I don’t know for how long. I finally heard the noises that meant a shift change, and went downstairs.

I was standing outside, watching the snow falling. It was still dark, and with the heavy clouds, it wasn’t going to get light any sooner than it had to.

Justin’s POV

It had been ten days since my surgery, and the doctor was staring at my chart.

“When can I go home?” It was the first time I’d thought to ask.

The doctor glanced at the chart, as if she hadn’t already seen it, as if she hadn’t just written in it. “I’m not sure.” She looked at me appraisingly. “You’re still in more severe pain than we expected at this stage, and we probably need to do a scan and figure out what’s going on. Someone from vascular is going to come down and talk to you this morning.”

I nodded. I didn’t care all that much, but I knew that was just because I was on pain meds, and to tell the truth, kind of depressed. I knew that was why I wasn’t feeling anything, not even curiosity. The only thing I really felt was sadness alternating with bitterness, and I didn’t like either one, so I tried not to feel anything.

It worked about half the time.

“Mr. Taylor?” It was a hesitant male voice from the door, and I turned my head. “Justin?”

“Yes?” I had no idea who he was.

A guy with light brown hair, and his arm in a sling, walked into the room. He smiled at me. A tall woman in a green sweater was with him. “I’m Bob Campbell. This is my wife, Karen. We just wanted to thank you.”

“For what?” I was confused.

He looked startled. “You saved my life.”

I stared at him. Daphne had told me people said I was a hero, but I hadn’t really thought about it much. “I… I don’t remember that night. I was just doing my job.”

His wife put her hand on his arm. “You don’t remember?”

I shook my head.

She smiled at me, sadly. “You got shot trying to save him, and one of the officers on the scene. They’d have died if you weren’t there.”

I felt my face getting red, and I just repeated, “It was my job.”

They stayed for a few more minutes, but I didn’t know what to say to them. They finally left, and Daphne came in right away. She must have been waiting in the hall. “Justin?”

I took a deep breath. “That was weird. I don’t remember him at all.”

She nodded. “I know. But you saved his life. And the cop’s.”

“Tell me what happened again?”

She told me the story, not for the first time, but it was still like something that happened to someone else. “I still say I was kind of stupid.”

“You were brave. Shut the fuck up.” She sounded fierce. “You’re a hero.”

I laughed. “Okay. I’m a hero.”

She laughed a little, too.

It must have been my day for visitors, because Daphne’s mom walked in the door while we were still laughing. “Hi, kids. I guess you’re feeling better.” She bent down and kissed my forehead.

Mrs. Chanders sat in the chair where Daphne usually sat, and took my right hand in hers. “I’m glad to see you smiling.”

Daphne left me with her mom and went to get something to eat. After a few minutes, I felt my eyes start to close, and Mrs. Chanders told me to get some rest, and left. I closed my eyes, but didn’t really fall asleep.

I’d been trying not to think too much about Brian. I couldn’t understand at all why he wasn’t coming to see me. I looked at the phone on the bedside table; I wasn’t even sure it was hooked up, or if I wanted to call him if it was. The odds he didn’t know where I was were zero. If he was sick or out of town, Lindsay would have known. I suddenly wished I’d asked her to talk to him. Maybe if she came back, I would. Or maybe I’d just get my head out of my ass and stop giving a fuck.

“Look what I brought you.” It was Daphne, sounding extremely happy. I opened my eyes. “I went to the diner and Debbie sent you, well… everything. Oh, and her love. Lots and lots of food, and love.”

I grinned. “Good. I’m starving.”

Daphne looked even happier. “Me, too.”

We ate hamburgers and lemon bars, and I drank half a milkshake before I fell asleep again.

Brian’s POV

I finally realized that whoever was knocking wasn’t going to go the fuck away no matter how many times I told them to, so I carefully set the bottle down on the floor next to the sofa, stalked over to the door, and yanked it open. Of course it was Michael.

I turned my back on him and went back to the sofa. I picked up the bottle and finished what little was left, and let it fall to the carpet. “What the fuck do you want?”

“Jesus, Brian, it stinks in here. What the hell are you doing?”

I rolled my eyes. “I’m drinking, Mikey. What does it look like I’m doing?”

I threw myself back down on the sofa. He walked over and picked up the bottle, and two just like it from the night before. “You know better than this, Brian. You’re not a kid anymore. You can’t do this.”

“Watch me.” Michael’s mother hen routine could be amusing or irritating, depending on my mood. Tonight it made me want to hit him. “Or rather, don’t watch me. Just leave.”

“I’m not leaving you like this.” He had thrown the bottles in the trash, and was standing at the kitchen counter, arms crossed over his chest, glaring at me.

“Does your husband know where you are?” Michael hated the way I said “husband.”

“Yes. He was worried about you, too.”

I snorted with laughter. “I’m sure. Well, run home and tell him I’m fine.”

Michael came and sat on the sofa, near my feet. “Lindsay came over today.”

Fuck.

“She said you haven’t gone to see Justin at all.”

I didn’t say anything. Fuck all lesbians and their big fucking mouths, and fuck best friends who didn’t know when to give up. I was sorry I’d already finished the bottle. I had another one, but I somehow doubted Michael was going to let me get it. I’d have to wait him out. I pasted on my most patient look.

Michael grabbed my ankle. “Brian… what the fuck is going on? Lindsay said you were practically living with this guy. He gets hurt and you don’t even go see him?”

I started counting in my head. When I got to fifty, Michael was standing at the door. When I got to a hundred, he was gone. I went and got the other bottle.

Justin’s POV

“Oh god, that feels good.” It was the first time I’d been able to wash my hair since my surgery, and the feeling of the hot water rinsing shampoo out of it was the best thing I’d felt since I got shot. I felt a twinge at the memory of Brian’s hands washing my hair in his big shower, but I shoved it away. I was trying not to think about Brian.

Daphne laughed and sprayed water on my hair, and finally decided all the shampoo was out. “There, that’s good.”

She helped me back to my bed, and I rubbed my hair with a towel. My bangs fell all the way over my eyes, and I shoved them back with my hand. “I need a haircut.”

She nodded. “When you get out.”

“I also need a shower. I would kill for a shower.” I sniffed at my underarms, and Daphne laughed.

“Princess.”

I threw the wet towel at her. “Fuck you. Try going more than two weeks without a shower, bitch.”

“You have that hunky orderly giving you a sponge bath.” She had her head tilted to one side.

I groaned. “That sounds a lot sexier than it really is.” Since me almost passing out from pain was probably not very sexy. “And it’s only been him once.”

She rolled her eyes. “When can you have a shower?”

“They said day after tomorrow. And maybe I can go home on Friday.” There had been some vascular complications, and I was going to need more surgery, but they’d decided to send me home for a while before going in again. I was still in a lot of pain, but I’d sort of gotten used to it.

“Can we come in?”

It was Melanie and Lindsay. And Gus.

I’d known Gus looked like Brian, but it hit me differently that day. His face lit up, and I had to close my eyes, and open them again. “Hey, Gus.”

He streaked over to the bed, pretty fast for a kid with a cast on his leg, and crutches. Melanie was right behind him, keeping him from throwing himself on me. She must have seen me flinch.

“Careful, Gus, Justin’s leg is hurt.”

Gus nodded, and examined my legs under the blanket. “Which one?”

“My left leg.”

He nodded again. “Mine is my right.”

I smiled. “I know. How’s your leg doing?” 

He chattered a while about his cast, and his surgery, and his plans for his future career as a paramedic. I just watched his happy face, and occasionally glanced at his moms. They were watching him, too.

He finally stopped talking, and bit his lip. I felt that same grip in my gut, seeing Brian in his face. “How did you hurt your leg?”

I shifted in the bed, and looked helplessly at Lindsay. I had no fucking idea what you said to a kid this young.

She rescued me. “He got shot by a bad man, Gus, just like you did. He was trying to save another man who was shot, the way he saved you, but the bad man shot him while he was trying to help.”

I wanted to roll my eyes. It sounded like a bad TV movie. “But the man was saved, and so was I. Just like you.”

Gus looked like he was thinking it over, then decided he’d heard enough. “Can you draw me a picture?”

I smiled. “Maybe tomorrow, Gus, I don’t feel very well right now.” I hadn’t drawn since I’d been in the hospital. Daphne had brought my sketchbook and pens, but I hadn’t even looked at them.

After they left, I tried not to think about it. I thought about how good it felt to have clean hair, and about taking a shower, and even a little about going home, and sleeping in my own bed. But it didn’t help.

They’d assigned Daphne a temporary partner, and she was working that night. I watched TV for a while, and ate my dinner when they brought it. When I was done, I looked at the phone again. I picked it up, and there was no dial tone. I didn’t know if it wasn’t connected, or if I just needed to punch in a code first. I wondered, for the first time, where my cell phone was.

I sat up, and waited for the pain in my leg to subside. I looked at it, hoping it wasn’t going to hurt like this until I had the second surgery. I was starting to think it would, given that they were talking about sending me home in a few days. I pushed it out of my mind.

I got out of bed, dragging my IV pole with me, and found my messenger bag on the floor of the closet. I pulled my sketchpad and pens out of it, and carefully got back in bed with them. It hurt so much I broke out in a cold sweat, and felt like I was going to throw up. I fell asleep while I was waiting for it to stop.

I woke up, and the room was dark. I must have slept through my nightly temperature, blood pressure, inject-drugs-in-the-catheter routine. I’d woken up because my leg hurt. I’d been trying not to use my little morphine dispenser, because it gave me such weird dreams, but I punched it once. I put my sketchpad and pens on the bedside table, and waited for the drugs to kick in.

I hated it at night. I’d sort of gotten used to the hospital, the noises that never stopped, people coming in and out all day, the constant checking of my blood pressure and temperature. But late at night, they tried to keep it a little darker and a little quieter, and if I wasn’t asleep, it could be hard not to get sucked into self-pity.

I could only lie on my right side, or a little bit on my back, or my left thigh would hurt too much. I would lie there and fantasize lying on my left side, or all the way on my back, or on my stomach. I almost laughed at the lameness of my fantasy life these days, but I was trying not to imagine my pillow was Brian’s chest, or that he was just in the bathroom and would be right back to bed.

The morphine finally did its job, and I fell asleep.

Brian’s POV

Debbie waved distractedly at me when I came in, and I assumed it meant she was swamped. I got my own coffee, and sat down with it, waiting for her to take my order. I was staring out the window at the sidewalk when I heard her say my name.

I looked at her blankly for a second.

“You look like shit, if you don’t mind my saying it.”

“Why would I mind? And can I get a turkey sandwich, if you’re not too busy commenting on my lack of esthetic appeal?”

“Yeah, yeah…” Debbie scrawled something on the order pad, and headed for the kitchen. I sincerely hoped she’d actually get me what I’d ordered, but I wasn’t optimistic.

“Daddy!” That wasn’t a name I usually answered to, so I didn’t even look away from the window until I felt someone climbing onto the seat with me. I shook my head, and pulled Gus up next to me. I looked up at Melanie and Lindsay, who were standing there, a little uncertain. I gestured at the other side of the booth, and they slid in.

Gus scrambled the rest of the way into my lap. I didn’t want him there, but I let him. He was chattering happily, and I closed my eyes and rested my cheek on his head. I could feel the fuzz of his hair, just barely growing back in, against my face.

Debbie couldn’t get over there fast enough this time. “Look, it’s my almost-grandson! How are you, baby?” She put crayons and a sheet of drawing paper in front of him, and stood beaming while Gus and his moms gave their orders. I didn’t say anything, didn’t even threaten Deb to hurry up with my food. I just held Gus, his right leg sticking out on the bench next to us.

“We went and visited Justin. He got shot in his leg.”

I cleared my throat. Lindsay and Melanie were watching us. “I know.”

Gus paused, then took the crayons and paper Debbie had put down for him and started to draw. “I asked him to draw me a picture, but he said he felt too sick. He said maybe he would do one tomorrow, do you think he will?”

“I’m sure he will.” I tried to keep my mind from thinking about Justin not feeling well enough to draw Gus a picture.

Gus was scribbling on the paper. “But I’m going to draw one for him. Will he like that?”

I looked wordlessly at Lindsay. She smiled, but it looked strained. “He’ll like it a lot, Gus.”

Gus tilted his face up to me, and I nodded encouragingly. I couldn’t talk.

I watched him drawing something box shaped, with two figures next to it. The taller one was blond, and the littler one had long curly hair. He looked back at me again. “Maybe I should draw him crutches, for his hurt leg.”

I saw Lindsay looking at me again, but I avoided her eyes. I sighed against Gus’ head. “That’s a good idea, Gus.” I watched him draw two wobbly-looking brown sticks at Justin’s sides.

I gently slid him off my lap. “I have to go to the bathroom, Gus. I’ll be right back.”

I avoided Lindsay and Melanie’s eyes and went into the bathroom. I splashed cold water on my face, and stood leaning against the tile wall for a long time. Then I went back out.

My sandwich was there, with a salad instead of fries. Gus and the lesbians must have distracted Deb from whatever she’d meant to feed me, or maybe she was too busy to try to give me meatloaf and bully me into eating it. I picked at my food, but Gus was bouncing around on the seat next to me, and it was hard to eat. His cast kept bashing into my leg, and I finally gave up.

Lindsay hesitated for a minute when I started to say goodnight, and I silently willed her not to follow me outside. That sometimes worked, but usually didn’t, and tonight, it didn’t.

“Brian? Are you okay?”

“I’m fabulous.” I gave her a bright, false smile.

She frowned. “Bullshit. You look like hell.”

Not my night for impressing women. Fortunately, I didn’t give a shit. I sighed, and kissed her cheek. She tried to hold onto my arm, but I turned and walked to the car. My shift was starting in half an hour.

It was a quiet night, which was too bad, because I could have used the distraction. Instead, I caught up on my notes, followed up on a few patients, and even thought about offering to do non-trauma surgical consults in the ER, although at the last minute, I changed my mind. At around 11, a guy came in with a knife wound, and I took out his spleen. That was it, though; I was back in the office working on charts by 1:30.

I expected a multiple trauma to come in ten minutes before I was supposed to get off, but it didn’t. I watched the clock hit 3 AM, closed my case notes, and went upstairs.

Justin’s POV

I opened my eyes and he was standing there. I should have been more surprised than I was. I should have been angrier than I was. I just stared at him.

He took a step closer to the bed, but he didn’t say anything. Neither did I. I just watched him.

He was wearing clean scrubs, and looked younger than I’d ever seen him. He looked uncertain. He took one more step, and then another, and then he carefully sat down on the edge of the bed, his back to the wall, next to me. He looked down into my eyes, and just waited.

I thought about the nights I’d lain in this bed, fighting back stupid tears because he wasn’t there. I thought about how I’d imagined that my own arm under my head was his arm. I thought about stupid idealistic romantic fantasies, and how they’re nothing but bullshit and lies.

I thought about how much I wanted to touch him. I was so tired of fighting with myself. I was so tired of feeling like I was strong and didn’t need anyone. Even if I rip his heart out tomorrow, I thought, I’m giving in tonight.

He must have seen something in my eyes, because he shifted just the tiniest bit, and I sighed and put my head on his thigh. I didn’t relax into him, though, just waited.

His hand tentatively touched my hair. I could feel his fingers stroking through it, gently smoothing it. Fuck it, I thought, and buried my face in his lap.

I don’t know how long I lay there, his hand running through my hair, the warmth of his crotch pressed into my face. I breathed in his smell, felt his cock soft and warm against my cheek, felt the muscles in his thighs twitch when he shifted even the tiniest bit.

“Why didn’t you come to see me?” My voice was almost not even a whisper. I didn’t know if he could hear me.

He bent over me, curving over my body. His fingers were gentle in my hair. “There wasn’t… there wasn’t anything I could do for you.”

His hand was still in my hair. Still gentle. But I felt a wave of bitterness. “This. You could have done this.”

I felt him get even tenser, and then he sat up until he was leaning against the wall, his head tipped back. I waited, and he finally started to talk.

“They brought you in that night…”

I just waited. I could feel his pulse beating in his thigh.

I heard him swallow. “I didn’t know it was you. You were so white, and there was all this blood.”

I froze.

“I tried to stop the bleeding. But I couldn’t find the artery. It was all… shredded.”

He didn’t say anything, and I couldn’t even think. I just stared straight ahead, trying to understand what he was telling me.

“And Cynthia was trying to find Vance or someone, but there wasn’t anyone else. So I just kept trying to get it to stop. But it wouldn’t stop.”

I dragged myself up so I was half-sitting next to him. I grabbed his chin with my hand, and made him look at me. I couldn’t really see his eyes in the dark, but I stared at them. “You worked on me when they brought me in?”

He just nodded once.

“No one told me.”

He looked at me like he had no idea what I was saying, or why I was there.

“Brian. They said they had to cardiovert me. Did you do that?” I tried to imagine giving Brian shock to start his heart. I literally couldn’t.

He nodded again.

I sat up a little more, and ignored the pain knifing through my leg. “What happened? They said Telson did the surgery.”

“I couldn’t stop the bleeding. Then he came in, and they took you away.” He looked at me, and I thought for the first time that night he almost saw me. “I couldn’t get it to stop. I couldn’t find the artery, nothing was where it was supposed to be.”

I took a deep breath. “I know. They told me. It was from the impact of the bullet. But no one told me it was you.”

He didn’t say anything for a long time. I let my head rest against his chest, and he finally put his arm around my shoulders. “It was me.”

I sat there, not really thinking, absorbing what he’d said. He didn’t seem to mind, just put his hand back in my hair. And after a little while, I felt his cheek resting against it.

I wouldn’t have thought I could, but I actually started to fall asleep. Maybe it was the morphine from before. I woke up when I felt him shift, but he just looked down at my face when I looked up at him. I could see his face in the darkness now, and even his eyes. He blinked at me, and then his lips twitched just the tiniest bit. I felt myself smile at him, really smile.

We didn’t talk anymore. I felt him letting me slip down his body, and I put my head back in his lap. I fell back to sleep.

At some point I felt him moving, sliding out from under me, and I murmured something, and tried to stop him with my hand. He held my wrist for a second. “It’s shift change, they’re going to come in soon. I should go.” He kissed the top of my head.

I nodded, and sat up, watching him walk to the door.

“Brian?”

He turned. “Yeah?”

I stared at him for a minute. “Don’t fucking do this again.” My voice sounded strange, rough and gentle at the same time.

Brian looked at me for a second, and walked slowly back to the bed. He crouched down, and gently pushed my hair back out of my eyes. “I’ll come back tomorrow.” His voice sounded a little strange, too.

I nodded. He surprised me then, leaning in close and kissing me. My mouth was stiff for a minute, and Brian’s hands were suddenly on the back of my neck, pulling me in tight, kissing me hard.

I opened my mouth and felt his tongue, wet and warm, sliding around mine. I felt like I couldn’t breathe.

He finally broke the kiss, but kept his hands on the back of my neck, our faces tight together. His mouth was at my ear, and his voice was harsh, but so quiet I could barely hear him.

“I’m sorry.”

I pulled away, put my hand on the side of his face. I didn’t whisper or even lower my voice. “You should have come to see me. But there’s nothing else to be sorry for.”

Brian stared at me for what felt like a long time. He finally nodded, took a breath, and let it out. I felt some of the tension leave his body, even though his eyes still looked strange to me. He kissed me again, so gently. “Later.”

I felt myself smiling. “Later.”

I saw him stop one more time in the doorway, and when he turned around to look at me, my eyes were sliding closed. I think I was still smiling.


	6. Pulse Point, Chapter 6

  
  
  
  
**Pulse Point, Chapter Six**  
By Xie  
  
 **Justin’s POV**  
  
Sometimes I think back to the time when I got shot, and it’s like it didn’t happen to me.  
  
I can see the jagged scars on my leg, although they’re fainter now. I can even feel a little pain in my muscle when I think about it. I’ve never known if the pain is always there, just on the edge of my awareness, or if it’s some kind of memory in my nerves and tissues. But mostly, the whole thing feels like a dream, or a movie I saw a long time ago, or something that happened to someone else.  
  
I don’t even mean the shooting itself, because I’ve never had much more than flashes of memory of that. It’s more the nights in the hospital. Even the night Brian finally came to see me feels like a dream, probably because I was doped up and it was dark, and he just whispered.  
  
The first moment that seems real, like my actual life starting again where it left off, was when I picked up a pencil to draw a picture for Gus – although it was more that I wanted to draw than that I could.   
  
The problem was that no matter what I did, I couldn’t get comfortable. The first time I tried, I had my sketchpad open on the bed in front of me, but however I arranged my legs, my thigh hurt too much to hold the position. I’d tried the table that I used to eat, but I could lean back when I ate. To draw, I had to sit up straight, and it made the muscle in my thigh start to spasm.   
  
“Fuck.” I’d thrown the pencil down just as Daphne came in the door, and it bounced over and hit her in the leg. “Sorry.”  
  
She dumped a load of magazines on the chair, picked up the pencil, and handed it to me. “You’re drawing.”  
  
I turned the pad so she could see it, and leaned back against the pillows. The muscle instantly relaxed. “Yeah. For Gus.”  
  
She glanced at me for a second before she looked at the page I’d been working on.  
  
“I know it sucks. You don’t have to say it.” I chewed on my lip.  
  
She ignored me, and sat on the edge of the bed, still looking at it. Then she put it on the bed next to her. “When do you come home?”  
  
“Friday.”   
  
She shrugged. “I bet once you can work at a table you’ll be okay. Or you can try sitting on the edge of the bed; that’ll give more support to your thigh. But then you’ll have nothing to lean against.”  
  
I heaved a big sigh. “I just want to go home.”  
  
“Day after tomorrow.” She put her hand over mine. “And since you’re feeling better, I guess you’ll be in full drama queen mode until then?”  
  
I laughed and yanked my hand out from under hers. “Fuck you.”  
  
She cocked her head. “You look happy. You’re drawing.”  
  
I kept my eyes on my sketchpad. “Brian came to see me last night.”  
  
I knew there were two possible reactions. One, total silence, then a change of subject, and at some point – a day, two days, a week later – a long dissertation. Or two, spontaneous combustion.  
  
She didn’t quite do either. “It’s about time.” Then she changed the subject. “Did you try putting a pillow under your leg?”  
  
I looked at her, suspicious. “You knew.”  
  
She seemed genuinely confused. “I didn’t know. How could I have known? I just got here.”  
  
“That he worked on me when they brought me in.”  
  
“He what?” The confusion turned to shock. Daphne wasn’t that good an actress. Hell, Daphne’s face was always an open book.   
  
“Brian worked on me until Telson got out of surgery. He tried to get the bleeding under control. He was the one who did the cardioversion.”   
  
Daphne flinched. “Fuck.”  
  
I picked up the sketchpad. “Yeah.” I looked at Daphne’s chair. “What about if I put the sketchpad on the bed, and sat in the chair?”  
  
We tried a few things, and she finally left me sitting somewhat comfortably, finishing a drawing for Gus that I sincerely hoped none of my professors at PIFA ever saw or even heard about.  
  
 **Brian’s POV**  
  
I came in through the ER from force of habit, and ran smack into the single person on earth, barring only members of my immediate family, who I least wanted to see.  
  
“Why, Daphne, you’re looking particularly lovely today.” She did, too. Pure venomous rage became her.  
  
“You. Outside.”   
  
She stalked into the parking lot, and after hesitating a second, I followed her.  
  
She turned and faced me. “I don’t need, or even want, an explanation.”  
  
I looked at her, waiting for her to go on. She didn’t. “I wasn’t going to give you one. It’s between Justin and me.”  
  
She snorted. “God, that’s such a guy thing to say. But whatever. It doesn’t matter. I’d have said this to you a long time ago if Justin hadn’t made me promise not to talk to you. But I’m saying it now: Don’t fuck with him. That’s all.”  
  
Somewhat uncharacteristically, she shut up. And didn’t unlock her eyes from mine. I almost squirmed. “I’m not.”  
  
“Good.” And she turned and walked off. I stood rubbing my arm as if she’d hit me, and wondered if anyone in my life had ever protected me like that.  
  
I didn’t think so.  
  
I almost went into my office, but I stopped at the door and went back to the stairs. I went up to Justin’s floor. His door was standing open, and when I went inside, he was sitting in the room’s one chair, his back to me.  
  
“Hey.”  
  
Justin stopped drawing, and looked at me over his shoulder. His face lit up. “Hey.”  
  
I walked over and looked at what he was drawing, and laughed. “Gus apparently is good for your creativity.”  
  
Justin tipped his head and looked at the drawing. “Well, I don’t know if I’d say he’s _good_ for it, but he wanted a drawing, so I’m trying to do one that doesn’t completely suck.” He shaded in a small section near the ambulance tire. “I’m kind of out of practice.”  
  
I sat on the bed. Justin was still drawing, and not looking at me. I watched him draw for a few minutes, his lower lip caught in his teeth, his hand moving confidently over the paper. “Your choice of subject matter and my son’s are remarkably similar.”  
  
He smiled, but didn’t look away from the sketch. “He asked for a drawing of the ambulance. That’s what he likes.”  
  
I rolled my eyes. “Yes, believe me, we’re all very aware of his obsession with all things paramedical.”  
  
He slanted his eyes sideways at me, and I pulled my leg up, resting my foot on the bed. He just kept drawing. It was oddly soothing to watch him.  
  
After a few minutes I realized he was shifting uncomfortably in the chair. “You’re off the morphine?”  
  
He nodded, eyes on the sketch. “It was giving me weird dreams, and besides, if I’m going home, I need to be on something else.”  
  
I frowned. “Whatever the something else is, it’s not working.”  
  
He put down the pencil, and looked at me. “The morphine wasn’t really working, either. It knocked me out, but my leg still hurt.”  
  
I was quiet for a while, and he went back to his drawing. “They’re going to have to re-do the graft?”   
  
“Yeah.” He shifted again, and this time he actually threw down the pencil. “Fuck.”  
  
“Yeah. Well, it’s going to hurt like a motherfucker until they do.” I could tell Justin wanted to get up. He probably wanted to stomp around the room.  
  
He shoved his hand through his hair. “Christ, I need a haircut.”  
  
I bit back a smile. “It looks hot.”  
  
He shook his head. “That worked last time, but this time I really do need a haircut.”  
  
I reached out and ran my hand through his hair. “Okay.”  
  
He sighed. “I just want to fucking go home.”  
  
I nodded. “When are they going to release you?”  
  
“Friday.” He picked up the pencil again.   
  
I lay there watching him. He was wearing a t-shirt and sweatpants, not a hospital gown, with heavy gray socks on his feet. His hair was so long he could actually tuck it behind his ear on one side, although it kept falling free.  
  
I didn’t feel bored, or even curious about his drawing. Justin’s hand was steady as he drew, shaded, and smudged. I almost laughed when I thought about how his sketch compared to the one Gus drew in the diner.  
  
It was a freezing cold afternoon, but the sunlight from the window was crossing the foot of the bed. I could feel the warmth of it on my legs. I fell asleep for a little while, listening to his pencil scratching at the paper.   
  
I opened my eyes, and the room was quiet. Justin was standing next to the bed, just looking at me. I blinked, and sat up. “Sorry.”  
  
“It’s okay. But they’re starting to serve dinner.”  
  
“That’s tragic.”  
  
He laughed. “Daphne usually brings me something.”  
  
I nodded, and rubbed my eyes. Then I realized I was on Justin’s bed, and he had a leg with massive vascular impairment and – if the fact that he was pale and leaning all his weight on his right leg was any indication, which as a highly trained medical professional I was fairly sure was the case – was in some serious pain. I thought I should get up, but instead I scooted all the way to the side of the bed and just looked at him.  
  
He blinked at me. Then he sat down and carefully slid his legs onto the bed, and leaned against me while I put my arm around him. I heard him give a sigh, and I rested my cheek against his hair.   
  
I wasn’t sure whether I should find it comforting or insulting that he was asleep with his head on my shoulder about two minutes later. When the nurse brought in his dinner, I just shrugged at her. She shook her head and left the tray with its covered plate on the table. But she was smiling.   
  
He slept for a long time. I gently woke him up when they came in to take his blood pressure and temperature, and got off the bed. It wasn’t the nurse from dinner; this one was considerably more uptight and kept glancing at me disapprovingly. Justin rolled his eyes while she checked his temperature.  
  
“98.6.” She snapped off and discarded the cover from the thermometer, and left.  
  
I laughed, and shoved Justin’s undoubtedly cold dinner towards him. “Let’s hope Daphne brings you something, because if this sucked before, it’s probably toxic now.”  
  
He pulled the cover off and shook his head. “It’s just a sandwich. It’ll hold me until she gets here with some actual food.”  
  
I stole some chips off the plate while he ate, and he gestured at the tray. “Help yourself to some congealed jello.”  
  
I shuddered and got up. “I think I’ll go see if someone needs their guts stuffed back inside their belly.”  
  
“Eeuuww. Way to entertain me while I’m eating.” He took another bite of his sandwich.  
  
I took the last chip, told him “later,” and headed for the OR.  
  
 **Justin’s POV**  
  
Daphne stopped on her way to work with pizza and soda, but she couldn’t stay.   
  
I sighed. “I don’t know which is worse for me, the steady diet of junk food you keep bringing, or the crap from the hospital kitchen.”  
  
She laughed, and put a can of Coke on the table next to my bed. “So, did Brian come by again?” Her voice was deceptively casual.  
  
I pushed the pizza box to the end of the bed. “Yes.” Then, completely against my will, my mouth smiled.  
  
She looked at me for a minute, and I didn’t say anything. She finally nodded, and then surprised me by hugging me before she left. I grabbed her just as she was pulling away, and hugged her back.  
  
“I’m okay.”  
  
She smiled at me then. “I know.” And she left.  
  
I didn’t know if Brian had stopped back in again, because I actually slept through the night for the first time since I woke up after surgery. My leg still hurt, but if I kept it absolutely still, I could pretend it didn’t.   
  
When I woke up Thursday morning, I knew one thing, though: I’d seriously had it with being in the hospital. When my doctor told me I was cleared to go home the next day, I tried to get her to let me go that afternoon instead.  
  
She shook her head. “Give us one more night, Justin. You’ll be home in time for lunch tomorrow.”   
  
I waited until she left to get up, get my sketchpad and pull the plastic chair over to the edge of the bed. I’d finished Gus’ drawing and was hesitantly trying something a little more challenging than the ambulance. I worked for a while, then sat back, looked at it with a critical eye, and was just getting ready to rip it out of the sketchpad and toss it when Lindsay walked in.  
  
“Destroying a Taylor original?”  
  
I laughed. “Hiding the evidence.” I got up and sat on the bed, and let her have the chair. “How’s Gus?”  
  
“He’s great.” But she looked sad.  
  
“What’s wrong?”   
  
Lindsay shrugged. “He starts chemo again Monday. I just wish…” her voice trailed off.  
  
I looked at her for a minute. “I drew him something.” I got my sketchpad and carefully tore out the sketch I’d done for him the day before. “I didn’t feel well enough the other day, when he asked me to draw him something.”  
  
Lindsay looked at it for a long time. I thought she was going to ask me something, but she didn’t. “He’ll love it. Thank you, Justin.” She put a smile back on her face. “So, do they know when they’re letting you go home again?”  
  
I grinned. “Tomorrow.”  
  
“Oh, Justin! That’s wonderful!” We talked for a few more minutes; she didn’t ask about Brian, and I wasn’t sure if that was because she didn’t know he’d been to see me, or she did.   
  
She looked at her watch and stood up. “I have to go see Dr. Bordner, but I’m so glad you’re going home. I’ll tell Gus you said hello, and give him this.” She had carefully rolled up the drawing. She gave me a hug, and left.  
  
I sat back down in the chair, and looked at the sketch I’d done before Lindsay got there. It still sucked. I was balling it up to throw in the trash when I heard a noise from over by the door. I turned my head around and tossed the wad of paper at Daphne. She giggled, caught it, and dropped it in the can. “Oh yes, the best sign of all that you’re well: the full-scale queen-out.”  
  
“I am not queening out,” I informed her reasonably. “It sucked. I scrapped it. No queen-out involved.”  
  
Daphne clambered up onto the bed, and tucked her legs under her. “Okay.” She sounded way too agreeable. I raised an eyebrow at her, and she opened her bag and pulled something out.  
  
I groaned. “Not lemon bars.”  
  
She grinned. “Guess again.” She reached in the bag, took out a to-go box, and opened it with a flourish. “Bacon cheeseburger. Double order of fries.” She set it down on the bed, carefully pulled out another bag, and opened it almost reverently. “And a chocolate milkshake.”  
  
I climbed up on the bed next to her, and got as comfortable as I could. We pigged out and laughed, and by the time she started cleaning everything up, I felt as close to happy as I’d been since the shooting.   
  
“I’ll come get you tomorrow around 10.” She was gathering up the bags and wrappers and cups.  
  
I nodded. “Although if I’m out of here by 2, I’ll be surprised.”   
  
I drew for a while more, and actually finished a sketch I decided, at least for the time being, not to throw away. I was staring at it and chewing my lip when a bunch of guys from work came to visit before starting their shifts. Brian stopped by while they were there, but he just laughed at me from the doorway and left without coming in.  
  
By the time the guys left, I could hardly keep my eyes open. I think I was asleep before they got out the door.  
 **  
Brian’s POV**  
  
I was sitting in the office Thursday afternoon trying to decipher my notes on a case I’d seen the previous weekend, when Lindsay stopped by to get me for a pre-chemo consult with Gus’ oncologist.   
  
We sat in the office waiting for Dusty. Lindsay looked at me in an annoying way she’d probably picked up from her and Melanie’s couples counselor. I didn’t even raise an eyebrow.  
  
“I went and saw Justin before I came down.”  
  
“Oh?” I picked up a magazine.  
  
“He seems really well. He told me he’s going home tomorrow.”  
  
I turned a page. “So I’ve heard.” If it had been up to me, which it wasn’t, I’d have sent Justin home the minute he started bitching about the food. There wasn’t anything anyone could really do for him until he had the second graft. He spent most of his time complaining and the rest trying to draw. I'd noticed the wastebasket in his room was full of crumpled up sketches.  
  
Lindsay kept pushing. “You heard it from him?”  
  
I ignored her, but when I finally sneaked a look from under my lashes, she had a very small smile on her face while she read what was apparently a fascinating article in Highlights magazine.  
  
I finished flipping through a four-month-old copy of Newsweek and tried to find something to read that wasn’t about or for children, without much luck. I got up and walked to the window, and stared out at the snow falling until Elise called us into Dusty’s office.  
  
She smiled at us both. “All Gus’ bloodwork came back within the range we want to see, so we can start the chemo on Monday.” I felt Lindsay slump a little next to me.  
  
“I know how you feel, Lindsay.” Dusty’s voice was sincere, with just that overtone of warmth patients liked. I wondered if I ever sounded like that. “But this is good news.”  
  
Lindsay nodded. “It’s just that he’s so happy.”  
  
I shifted in my chair and opened my mouth, but Lindsay cut me off. “I know, Brian. Don’t start again. I’ll have him here. But kindly allow me to be unhappy about it for ten minutes.”  
  
I glanced at my watch. “Ten minutes.”  
  
Dusty cleared her throat. “It’s up to you, of course. But if it were my child…”  
  
Lindsay cut her off, too. “He’ll be here.”  
  
I took her down to the cafeteria for her remaining nine minutes. I was pretty good for the first four, but by the time my pager went off, I’d never been so glad to hear somebody was about to lose their spleen in my life.  
  
I stood up and dropped a kiss on her forehead. “I’ve got to go.”  
  
She nodded and used a shredded napkin to wipe her eyes. “Sorry I fell apart.”  
  
I shook my head. “You get to fall apart on this one.”  
  
I took the stairs to the surgical floor two at a time.   
  
I went by Justin’s room later that night, and his room was full of paramedics laughing and trying to see who could out-shout the rest. Justin was looking patient and aggrieved at the same time. I grinned at him over everyone’s head, ignored the plea in his eyes that I suspected meant, “Please pretend you’re my doctor and throw everyone out,” and went back downstairs.   
  
I came up when my shift was over. The whole floor was quiet, and he was sleeping when I went into his room. I knelt next to his bed, and softly touched his hair.  
  
 **Justin’s POV**  
  
I woke up feeling Brian’s hand in my hair. It was quiet, quieter than it usually was in the hospital, even in the middle of the night.  
  
I didn’t open my eyes, just smiled and kissed him. His mouth was warm, and I opened up for his tongue. I felt his hand slipping under the cover, and he nestled my soft cock in his palm, and laughed softly.  
  
“Hmmm, I don’t think I’ve ever felt it like this, let me look…”   
  
I opened my eyes and laughed while he pulled the blanket back, and yanked it back up. “Stop it. Someone could come in.”  
  
He was grinning at me. “That’s what makes it hot.”  
  
I closed my eyes and let the warm stroking of his hand make me half-hard.   
  
He murmured appreciatively. “Okay, this I remember.” He kept stroking me, his hand firm and warm on my cock. I didn’t move my hips because it hurt my thigh, but my breath got a little faster, and I buried my face in his neck.  
  
He smeared some of my pre-come over the head of my dick, and massaged around the rim. I groaned against his skin. “I’m going to make a mess. Stop it.”  
  
“I can do something about that.” He pulled away from me, slid the blanket down again, and had his head buried in my crotch before I knew what he was doing. I would have stopped him, but just as I was about to tell him no, his warm, wet mouth wrapped around my cock. I tangled my right hand in his hair and whimpered.  
  
When I came, it actually hurt a little. It had been a long time. He licked me perfectly clean, then came up and kissed me softly.   
  
I licked my lips. “I taste funny.”  
  
He nodded. “It’s the meds.”  
  
I made a face.  
  
“When you get home, we’ll have to put you on a semen-sweetening diet.” He was nuzzling into my neck and hair.  
  
I laughed. “As long as it involves large amounts of lemon bars, we’ll be fine. Debbie sends bags of them over with Daphne.”  
  
Brian bit my earlobe, and then touched my forehead with his. “That’s how she shows her love.”  
  
I looked at him, and whatever I’d been about to say went out of my head. He was still smiling, but I just stared at him. I felt everything get perfectly quiet, and then slowly I heard the usual nighttime hospital noises come back. He wasn’t smiling anymore, but his eyes were dark and soft, and still looking into mine. He leaned forward and kissed me.  
  
Brian had kissed me a hundred times by then. Probably more. But that kiss was dancing and music and sex and sleep when you’re tired. It was warm and deep and hot and gentle, all at the same time. It was his lips all over my mouth, his tongue licking mine, his hands grasping so tightly in my hair I had to reach up and stop him.  
  
We breathed against each other’s mouths for a minute, and I heard him sigh. I smiled against his lips, and I felt him smile back.   
  
We just lay there together on the bed until I fell asleep. I wasn’t really sure when he left.  
  
Friday morning, I stretched carefully when I woke up. The nurse was taking my blood pressure, and she smiled at me. “You’re going home today.”  
  
I flinched, half at her cheerful voice and half at the pain in my leg.  
  
“Are you sure you don’t want anything for that?”  
  
I gave her my best smile. “Really good coffee.”  
  
She laughed. “Justin, if there were any in the hospital, believe me, I’d get us both a cup.”  
  
I took a shower, washed my hair, got dressed, and then sat down to wait for the doctor. I decided I was done with the bed. At 10 Daphne came in. I let her have the chair and sat on the bed after all. I didn’t want to admit it, but my leg hurt from sitting. I didn’t get under the covers.  
  
Just past noon my doctor came in, and less than an hour later I was in a wheelchair being pushed out to the curb. I didn’t bother protesting; I knew no one would listen. But I jumped up the minute we were outside, and sat on a bench while I waited for Daphne to get the car.  
  
I had trouble getting in, but getting out was worse. I had to use my left leg to push myself up and out of the passenger seat, and the minute I used the muscle, the familiar burning pain sliced through my thigh. I was leaning on the car, panting, and Daphne stood next to me, holding the crutch they’d sent home with me. I had sweat on my forehead, and I just shook my head when she asked if I needed something. I couldn’t even talk.  
  
A few minutes later I went inside, and stood at the bottom of the stairs. At first they weren’t too bad; I was able to just use my right leg and the crutch. But halfway up I was dizzy and sweating. Daphne ignored my hissed rejection of help and slid her arm around my waist. By the time we got to the door of the apartment, I was actually leaning on her. She helped me get to the sofa, and I sat there, my leg and head throbbing with pain.  
  
She brought me a bottle of water and two pain pills. I didn’t argue, just swallowed them, and leaned against the back of the sofa, waiting for them to kick in. I’d been dreaming for days about being in my own bed, but right then, I was fairly sure I was never, ever getting up off the sofa.  
 **  
Brian’s POV**  
  
I finished work and started to go up the stairs when I remembered Justin wasn’t there. I shook my head, since I’d apparently gone completely insane for a minute to wish he was still up there in that fucking hospital room with no privacy and a twin bed with the most fucking uncomfortable mattress ever invented.  
  
I went out to my car and sat there letting the engine warm up for a few minutes. I looked at the ice-slick pavement and piles of dirty snow on the edges of the parking lot. I watched my breath make a cloud. I put on my seatbelt, and then flipped open my cell phone.  
  
Daphne answered and I cursed the invention of caller ID, since it meant I couldn’t just hang up. I decided to act like she hadn’t threatened my life the last time I’d seen her, and actually wondered what I’d do if she informed me she wasn’t going to allow me to see Justin anymore.   
  
But she just ignored all the undercurrents. “He’s asleep, Brian. He’s been asleep since he got home.”  
  
I raised an eyebrow. “It’s almost 10.”  
  
“The trip home was kind of hard on him, and I gave him two pain pills instead of one.”  
  
I smiled at the thought of Daphne drugging Justin for his own good, and tried not to think about why she’d had to do it. “I thought I might stop by.”   
  
Silence. I waited.  
  
“How uncharacteristically boyfriend-like of you.”   
  
I felt a headache start up in my forehead, and I rubbed between my eyes. “I can bring food.”  
  
That apparently worked as well on Daphne as on Justin, although with a slight twist. “I’ll order a pizza. Bring beer.” I closed my eyes for a minute when she hung up.  
  
I stopped for beer, and then went to their apartment building.   
  
I’d dropped Justin off and picked him up at his apartment a few times, but I’d never gone inside. Daphne buzzed me in, and when I got upstairs, the door was slightly open. There was a short entry hall, with coats hanging on the wall. I saw Justin’s scarf on a hook with his jacket, and what must have been a scarf of Daphne’s in a nearly-radioactive orange and fuchsia plaid. Putting that girl in a navy blue uniform was a crime against nature.  
  
“Come on in here.” I followed her voice to the kitchen, cutting across the corner of the living room. I saw Justin sleeping on the sofa.   
  
“How long has he been asleep?” I put the beer on the table, next to the pizza.  
  
“Since we got home.” She set a roll of paper towels on the table, and handed me a beer.   
  
I opened it. “Oh right, you drugged him.”  
  
She nodded. “He nearly passed out from the pain.”  
  
I swallowed my beer. She was looking at me, a curious expression on her face.   
  
“Anyway, we should wake him up. He probably needs to piss.”  
  
I choked on my beer. “Okay.” I followed her into the living room. She knelt down and gently shook his shoulder.  
  
“Justin.”  
  
He made noises I was familiar with, none of which indicated he planned on responding any time soon.  
  
She shook his shoulder more roughly, and glanced at me. I sighed, set my beer down, and bent over him. “There’s pizza.”  
  
His eyes opened, and he looked from me, to Daphne, then back to me, without any comprehension showing in his eyes at all. “What?”  
  
“Pizza,” Daphne repeated. “I ordered pizza. You should get up. You’ve been asleep for nine hours.”  
  
“What?” He was blinking and licking his lips.  
  
“Jesus.” I took his hand and started to yank him up.   
  
“Wait, his leg!” Daphne was glaring at me.   
  
I rolled my eyes, but helped Justin sit up more carefully. “Can you get up?”  
  
He looked at me, and blinked. “What are you doing here?”  
  
I sighed and pinched my nose. “I told you I’d come by after work. She wouldn’t let me in unless I brought beer.” I looked at him while he processed that information. “Plus you owe me a blow job.”  
  
Daphne gave a little squeak and went into the kitchen. Justin laughed. “I do? I find that hard to believe. All things considered.”  
  
I smiled. “I figured if food didn’t wake you up, a gross injustice would.”  
  
He shoved his hand through his hair and started to say something. I cut him off. “And don’t tell me you need your hair cut.”  
  
“I need to take a piss. Can I say that?”  
  
“Sure.” I grinned at him. “Need a hand?”  
  
He chose to take me literally, and put his hand out. I tugged him up, and ignored the way he paled when he stood up. I just handed him the crutch that was leaning against the coffee table.  
  
He shook his head. “I don’t need that to get to the bathroom. It’s five feet away.”  
  
“Let me guess. You haven’t used it yet.”   
  
He ignored me and walked into the bathroom, trying not to limp. I rolled my eyes and went into the kitchen.  
  
Daphne and I were eating pizza and drinking beer when Justin came in. He went to the refrigerator and got a beer, and then lowered himself carefully onto a chair at the table. Daphne silently handed him two pain pills, and he shook his head. “I can’t go to sleep yet. I have to blow Brian.”  
  
Daphne choked on her beer. Justin just took a swallow of his, and then smiled at us both when he set the bottle down.   
  
I grinned back and stood up. “Where’s the bedroom?”  
  
 **Justin’s POV**  
  
I’ve blown Brian a lot, in just about every possible place and position: Kneeling in the backroom at Babylon; in the bed at his loft with him straddling my chest and feeding me his cock; me sprawled between his legs with my finger up his ass and his cock deep in my throat. We’d done it in the shower, the elevator, and against the side of his car.  
  
But this was the first time we’d done it in my bed.  
  
The minute we got into my room he started kissing me, his hands tugging my sweater off over my head, and then his. I stepped carefully out of my pants, but as soon as they were on the floor, he was pushing me back against the bed.   
  
It was a strange mixture of careful touching and desperation, from both of us. For a minute he just breathed into my ear, lying next to me on the bed, and the next his hand was reaching down between my legs, stroking my cock. But I wanted him in my mouth, and I turned on my right side and kissed his shoulder.  
  
I dragged my tongue down his chest, licking at his nipples and tracing the muscles on his stomach. He lay back and let me, one hand resting lightly on the back of my neck, his cock hard and leaking against his stomach.  
  
I breathed against it before I touched it, and watched it jerk up a little, towards my mouth. I touched the bead of pre-come that bubbled out of his slit, and then worked the tip of my tongue into it while he arched his back.  
  
His fingers tightened on my neck. “Justin.”  
  
I smiled, made my tongue flat, and licked long and hard up the vein on his cock. He bucked into my mouth again, but I pulled back. It wasn’t the best angle but it was the only position I could stay in, so I concentrated on the head of his cock, licking it and working my lips around the rim while my hand jerked him off slowly, wet with my spit and his pre-come.  
  
I knew he wasn’t going to last long, because his hands were grabbing at my hair, and the muscles in his stomach were tensed. I kept playing with my tongue on the smooth skin of his cock head and the sensitive spot under the rim, making the grip of my hand just tight enough to keep him on the edge.   
  
As soon as I felt the skin get tight, I gripped harder, letting more of my spit run down his cock. He gave a loud groan and brought his right hand down and covered my hand with it, making me jerk him faster. His left hand was clenched so hard in my hair that it hurt, but I didn’t care. I just wanted to taste him, and a minute later, I did.  
  
I couldn’t swallow the hot gush that filled my mouth, and I let most of it drizzle out over his cock and stomach. His come was glistening on his pubes, and I buried my face in it, feeling it wetting my skin, hot and slick. I licked it up, knowing he was watching me, feeling his breathing stay shallow and rapid.  
  
I finally let my face just rest on his belly, my body curled at his side. His left hand was back to gently resting on my neck, and his right hand was holding mine softly against his chest. I saw a tiny bit of come I’d missed, and flicked my tongue out. I realized it was a small scar, almost buried in the curls at the very edge of his groin.  
  
I lifted up my head and looked at it, then leaned down and let my tongue sweep across it. “What’s this from?”  
  
His body had changed, even though not so much as one muscle had tensed. It was just a strange sense of stillness coming off him in waves. “It’s a surgical scar.”  
  
I looked at it for a second, trying to figure out what kind of surgery left a scar there. I felt his right hand tighten on my left hand, and he pulled it down to his balls, curling my fingers around the left one. “This is fake.” And he very lightly squeezed my fingers. “I had cancer, and they had to cut out my ball.”  
  
I looked at him. “When was this?”  
  
His face was completely blank, and his voice was flat. “Couple of years ago.”  
  
I abruptly put my head back down, my fingers still curved around his balls. He’d pulled his hand away. I felt my throat squeeze tight for a minute. “Are you okay?”   
  
“Yeah. They got it all.”  
  
I breathed out my relief. I gently rolled his ball into the palm of my hand, and sat up enough to look at it. “I couldn’t tell. I mean, I’ve had it in my mouth.”  
  
He snorted. “I’ll let the surgeon know. He’ll be thrilled that it passes the Justin Taylor ball-sucking test.”  
  
I turned my head and looked at him. I could tell he was forcing himself not to look away. “Did you have chemo, or…”  
  
“Radiation.” He sat up, and so did I. “Are we done with the questions?”  
  
I nodded. “Brian…”  
  
Now he did look away. “Justin… just don’t.”  
  
I looked at him for a few minutes, thinking about Brian with cancer, Brian puking his guts out from radiation.  
  
Thinking about what he was going through with Gus.  
  
I lay back down again, and shut up. I could tell he wanted to leave. I waited to see if he would.  
  
After a long pause, he lay down next to me, and a minute later I moved so my forehead was resting against his arm. I felt him exhale softly, not really a sigh, and he moved his arm around me. I let my hand lie on his chest, feeling his heart beat under my fingers.  
  
 **Brian’s POV**  
  
I didn’t make a habit of sleeping at Justin’s, largely because I didn’t make a habit of sleeping in general. But the first week after he came home, I stayed a couple of times. One morning I was lying in his bed running his hair through my fingers when it struck me he’d never gotten it cut.  
  
“Justin?”  
  
“Mmmm?” His voice sounded dreamy.  
  
I frowned. “Have you gone out since you got home?”  
  
“I’ve been to the doctor twice.”   
  
“Have you done anything fun or remotely recreational? Gone to the ATM machine? Post office? The diner?”  
  
“What the fuck is with the inquisition?”  
  
“Have you gone to your studio?”  
  
He just looked at me. “No.”  
  
“Why not?”  
  
“Brian. How am I supposed to stand in front of an easel? Be reasonable.”  
  
“They invented these amazing things called chairs. Can’t you adjust the legs on your easel?”  
  
He didn’t answer, but when I looked at his face, he looked surprised.  
  
“That’s it. Get up.”  
  
He laughed. “Fuck you.”  
  
“Shower. Dress.” He just glared at me. “Food.”  
  
“Asshole.” But he was laughing again.  
  
I held out my hand, and he let me pull him up. I knew it hurt him to stand, to walk, and to get in and out of the car. But he was having his second surgery in two weeks, and I was fucked if he was going into it without getting paint under his nails again.  
  
We showered, dressed, and went downstairs. When we got outside, I pulled him up against me. I kissed him, then pulled his scarf up tighter around his throat. “See? Sunshine. Light. Daytime. It’s a beautiful world.”  
  
He kissed me and muttered “asshole” right into my mouth, and then laughed when I bit his lip.  
  
“Justin?” I felt him turn in my arms, and then go absolutely rigid.   
  
It was a woman, blonde and pretty, although kind of worn-out looking. I was fairly sure I knew who it was; there was something stubborn about her mouth and jaw that looked familiar.  
  
“Justin, I just want to talk to you. Please.”  
  
I just stood there. He hadn’t moved away from me, but I’d let my hands drop off his arms when he turned. I stood behind him, and his mother’s eyes flicked from Justin’s face to mine, and back to his.  
  
“I have nothing to say to you.” His voice didn’t even sound like his.  
  
“I want to say something to you. That I’m sorry. That I was wrong.” She swallowed and looked like she was going to cry. “Your father and I aren’t together anymore. Justin… please…”  
  
He cut her off. “I know. Daphne told me. It’s about six years too late for that, mother.” He shook his head. “Come on, Brian.”   
  
I’d have gone with him, but his mother followed us, and put her hand on his arm. “Justin, don’t run away from me. I’m trying to make this right. Can’t you just talk to me for ten minutes?”  
  
He turned back to face her. “I didn’t run away. Dad threw me out. And you didn’t do one fucking thing to stop him.”  
  
“I know.” She swallowed again, hard. “I was wrong. I’m sorry. I want to make it up to you.”  
  
She glanced at me again, but I wasn’t getting involved in this. Mother-son relationships were definitely not my specialty. But I stayed standing behind him while he stared at his mother’s face.  
  
She tried again. “I know it’s hard for you to understand, and I don’t even expect you to. But… if you could just sit down with me, anywhere you want, whenever you want, and talk to me for a few minutes. Just give me one chance.”  
  
After a long silence, I saw the stiffness go out of his shoulders. “Not right now. Meet me Friday at the Liberty Diner, at 3. Do you know where that is?”  
  
She shook her head. “I’ll find it.”  
  
He didn’t respond to her, just turned and kept walking to my car. I glanced back, and she was standing there on the snowy sidewalk, staring after him.  
  
When we got in the car, he didn’t say anything until we were a few blocks from PIFA. “Can we just drive for a while?”  
  
I nodded, turned up the music, and got on the expressway. About half an hour out of the city, I got off and headed back. I felt the last of the tension going out of his body.   
  
“Thanks.” His voice was quiet.  
  
I shrugged. “Are you ready to go to the studio?”  
  
I glanced at him, and he had a strange look on his face. But he just said, “Okay.”  
  
His studio was upstairs, but there was a freight elevator. He sat down at his worktable the minute we got inside, and I pretended to be looking at a canvas that was leaning against the wall while he did whatever mind over matter he was trying out in lieu of drugs.  
  
After a few minutes, I heard him get up, and I helped him adjust the legs on his easel. When we were done, I leaned on the table while he looked at his paints and supplies. He was running his fingers over the bristles on the brushes.  
  
“My dad threw me out when I was 17 because I was gay.”  
  
He wasn’t looking at me. I waited.  
  
He turned around, and then he shrugged. “I went to live with Daphne’s parents until I finished school.”  
  
I nodded.   
  
He walked over to the window, and I stopped myself from telling him to get off his leg. He might be in pain, but it wouldn’t actually do any harm to his leg. And even if it did, it was his leg. Presumably he knew it was hurting. So I just waited.  
  
But he didn’t seem to want to say anymore. “Let’s go.”  
  
When we were back in the car, I started to go to the loft, but he shook his head. “I want to go to my place.”  
  
I didn’t say anything, just turned at the next corner. I didn’t ask if I could come up, either; I just parked the car and then held out my hand to help him get out. He took it without objecting. Sometimes it’s just stupid not to accept help. And Justin? Not stupid.  
 **  
Justin’s POV**  
  
I was actually grateful to Brian for not pushing me about my mother. I really didn’t know why I’d given in to her about getting together the next day; it almost felt like Brian being there made me not want to act like a petulant teenager.  
  
Brian took my keys and went ahead of me while I got up the stairs. He knew I hated it when people hovered, and since I had moral objections to him carrying me up the stairs like Scarlett O’Hara, I really preferred him just to get the fuck out of my way.  
  
I shut and locked the door, hung up my jacket and scarf, and went into the living room. He wasn’t there. I grinned to myself and went into my bedroom, where he was stretched out naked on my bed, his hands behind his head.  
  
I laughed, stripped, and climbed onto the bed. He rolled towards me when I lay next to him, and touched his forehead to mine. “Just forget it.”  
  
“What?”  
  
He kissed me. “Everything.”  
  
I sighed and buried my face in his neck, and he gently slid his leg between mine, tugging me close until we were almost pressed together, front to front. I lay there feeling his heart beating, and listening to mine, and then I kissed him again.  
  
At some point during the kiss, everything changed. It started out sweet and full of longing, and suddenly I was eating him alive, my fists grabbing his hair and pulling him into my face, his tongue thrusting into my mouth, our cocks grinding together.   
  
I arched my back and ignored the pain in my thigh. His mouth was on my neck, and I felt him suck the skin up, teasing it between his teeth. I let him have my throat, and he flattened his tongue on it, dragging it over my pulse, biting at my jaw.  
  
“Brian, Brian…” I was so sick of being touched like I’d break. I wanted him to fuck me the way he used to before I got hurt. “Fuck me…”  
  
I thought he’d just tell me he couldn’t, that we had to wait. I knew we did, but it didn’t stop me from wanting him inside me. I wanted to roll onto my stomach and have him pound the shit out of me.   
  
Brian was kneeling on my right side, and I lay there, my arms over my head, breathing hard. He lifted my right leg and slid closer to me, letting my leg fall over his arm.   
  
I felt the blood pounding in my ears. I wasn’t sure what he was going to do until he tugged on my leg and shifted my weight back and to my left. And then I couldn’t even breathe, because his finger was stroking my crack.  
  
He leaned forward, and I reached down and brought his hand up to my mouth, wetting his finger with my tongue. I pulled a second finger in, and then looked at his face while I sucked and licked it. His eyes looked glazed, and he had his tongue caught between his teeth.  
  
I took a third finger and moved all three of them in and out of my mouth like it was his cock. He dropped his head forward, and pulled his hand away.   
  
When he put his wet finger at my asshole, I thought he’d go back to playing with my hole, but he didn’t. He thrust it deep inside me with one long, slow movement, and I gasped. Then he pulled it back out and pressed two inside me.  
  
It hurt like fuck, a sharp ache as my muscles stretched and tried to take the intrusion. He didn’t wait for me to adjust at all, just pulled his fingers out and pushed them in again. My ass constricted around his knuckles, then loosened, and I felt the third finger pressing against the outer ring.   
  
He was panting hard, and I grabbed his wrist, not even sure if I was trying to push him deeper or shove his hand back. But then he pulled out, and I tried to stop him. He shook his head, and got the lube out of the drawer next to the bed.   
  
I watched him drizzle it on his hand and let it drip onto my cock and pubes. He rubbed it all over my balls and crack, and then pressed two fingers against my hole again. He didn’t ease them in, just shoved hard against my opening, and the ache shot through me, almost a cramp. I still had my hand on his wrist, but I was barely holding it now.  
  
He shifted my right leg higher on his arm, opening my ass up more. It lifted my left thigh off the bed, and he slid his knee under it, taking all the weight off it. I waited for the wave of pain to pass, and then felt his fingers moving inside my ass, my hole stretching first around his fingers, then his knuckles. It was too much and it wasn’t enough. I felt full, and I wanted him deeper, harder. I wanted to be even more full, and I tugged at his wrist again, wanting that third finger.  
  
He gave it to me, and then he pressed relentlessly against my hole with his knuckles, his fingers laced tightly together. I bore down against the pressure and felt him slipping inside. The stretch was too much and I arched my back, feeling the pain in my ass and my thigh bleeding together. He pulled his hand back.   
  
When he pressed his fingers into me again, it was sudden and rough, but he didn’t try to put his knuckles inside me. He just kept fucking me. I got my cock in my hand and started jerking myself off, fast and hard, exactly the way he was fucking my ass with his fingers.  
  
He couldn’t touch my prostate, just concentrated on opening me up with his hand. I felt a rush of blood in my head, and I almost couldn’t breathe. I was saying his name over and over, and groaning “fuck.” Everything cramped, my ass around his fingers, my gut, my thigh, everything, and a hot, sweet burn came up from my balls. It filled up the empty space inside me, the one even his fingers couldn’t reach, and then it met the stretch of my asshole, the slick movement of my fist on my cock. It spilled out of me, shooting onto my belly and chest while I wrapped my leg around Brian and gripped the sheet in my left fist.  
  
I was still coming when he dropped my leg and pulled his fingers out of me. I cried out because it hurt, but he was holding himself over me, dragging his cock through the wet mess on my stomach, sliding himself back and forth in my come. I couldn’t breathe, or think, just gasped when I felt the heat of his come mixing with mine on my bare skin, his cock jerking hard against me, his face pressed into my shoulder.  
  
He’d fallen down on me, half on the mattress, keeping his weight off my bad leg. I was lying under him, not sure how long we’d been lying there. I didn’t even care.  
  
“Fuck.”  
  
I heard him laugh softly, somewhere near my ear. “Yeah.”  
  
We probably should have showered, or talked, or done something other than fall asleep smeared in each other’s come.  
  
But we didn’t.  
 **  
Brian’s POV**  
  
For some reason, whether Dusty finally got the meds right or just because the universe decided beating up on little boys was wrong, Gus’ next course of chemo wasn’t as bad as the others. We thought when he only threw up twice after the first treatment on Monday that it was a fluke, but we got through the next two days without anything worse than that. By Friday we were still not talking about it out of some kind of strange parental superstition, but that day he didn’t throw up at all. And he’d decided to embrace his baldness, so he’d gone into this chemo with a shaved head, so we didn’t have to watch his newly re-grown hair fall out all over again.  
  
When I got home from the hospital that night, I closed the loft door behind me and dropped my jacket and gloves on the kitchen counter. I started unbuttoning my pants while I headed for the bedroom, and stopped at the top of the stairs.  
  
Justin was asleep in my bed, the duvet pulled up tight under his chin. I finished undressing, and slid into the bed behind him.   
  
I kissed the back of his neck, and he murmured, turned his head, and kissed me, all without really waking up. “Hey.”  
  
“Hey. I didn’t know you were coming over.” I hesitated. “Everything okay?”   
  
He shrugged, and wriggled back against me. “Yeah. I saw my mother.”  
  
I knew. “How was that?”  
  
He didn’t answer right away, and I gently kissed the back of his neck. He sighed, and pulled my arm over him, crossing his arms over it. “She’s trying.   
  
He stopped talking, and I pulled him tighter against me. “And?”  
  
He shrugged. “I don’t know.” He turned his head around, and grinned. “Maybe I should let Debbie work on her for a while. She had my mom signed up for the next PFLAG picnic before she brought our coffee.”  
  
I let myself curl around his body, my entire front pressed against him, my thighs against the backs of his, my cock hard against the small of his back. It was dark out, and the loft felt even quieter than usual.  
  
I felt something like desire and tenderness mixed together; I wasn’t sure, really, what it was. I tucked myself tighter around him, coiling him into a little ball inside my arms and legs.  
  
He groaned, and bent at his waist. I pulled back enough to fit my hand between us, and slipped a finger into his crack, gently touching his hole.  
  
Justin’s breath caught, and I wanted to fuck him so much that my gut clenched. He grabbed my wrist and pulled my hand up to his mouth. He licked and sucked on my finger, and I took it away from him after a minute and put it back at his hole, playing at the opening. He bent at his waist again, and I pressed the tip into the tight ring of his ass.  
  
He had his head buried in his right arm, and he was rocking against my finger. I let it slip in further, and he groaned as he pushed back on it. “Brian…” his voice sounded hoarse.  
  
I moved back up his body, wrapping myself close behind him again, and put my mouth right at his ear. “I want to be inside you, Justin…”  
  
He turned his head and kissed me, sloppy and frantic. “Go ahead.”  
  
My finger was still buried in his ass, and I could feel how incredibly tight he was in this position. “Are you sure?”  
  
“Yeah.” He breathing was shallow. “Just … take it easy.”  
  
I took a deep breath, and gently eased my finger out of him. He whimpered a little, and I felt his hips move back while I pulled out. I stopped him with a hand on his hip. “Wait.”  
  
I got the lube and condoms in the bedside table drawer, and hesitated. He had turned his head and was watching me, his eyes dark and his lips parted. I felt the clench of desire in my gut again, and fought it back long enough to lube my fingers and go back to playing with his ass. He was so tight, and so hot, and I stroked him and stretched him longer than I usually did. I finally heard him give a sigh and relax, his head dropping back down onto his arm, his left hip rolling just a little more forward.  
  
I put on a condom, gently held his cheeks open with one hand, and lined my cock up against his opening with the other. I felt the heat coming off him in waves, and waited for him to relax again. His knees were tucked up, his right leg further than his left, and I gently held his hip and started to press inside him.  
  
His moan was muffled in his arm, and the tight ring of his ass squeezed my cock almost painfully. I felt the blood pounding in my ears, and I leaned forward, nuzzling his shoulder and pressing slowly inside him. Justin bent his waist and pulled his right leg up higher, and everything opened a little more. I slid all the way in.  
  
“Oh god….” His voice broke when he said it, and he twisted his head back again. I bent down and kissed him, my hand on his hip keeping him from moving too much.  
  
“Just let me.” I pulled back a little and slid in again. I felt him relaxing even more, felt the walls of his ass loosening and tightening on my cock. I kept fucking him slowly, the angle a little awkward, and he brought his hand back and put it on mine where it gripped his hip.  
  
I hadn’t been inside him in weeks, and it felt strange and familiar at the same time. I wanted to kiss him, but his head was tucked into his arm, so I put my mouth against his shoulder and pressed more deeply inside him.  
  
He groaned sharply, and I held still, buried in him, feeling the pulse in his ass beating on my cock, and my cock throbbing while he constricted around me.  
  
“God, Justin…”  
  
I could see him smile. “Yeah. No shit.”  
  
I laughed, and moved just a little bit. He gave a cry, and I held still again, but he shook his head. “Don’t stop.”  
  
I put my hand back on his hip and moved in him again. The tightness and the sounds he was making were almost more than I could fight off, and I felt dizzy. I felt every breath he took, every ripple of the walls of his ass, every beat of his heart, all of it on my cock. And then without warning I was coming, all of my control gone before I even knew I was losing it, Justin’s ass still so tight and hot around my cock.  
  
I pulled out of him carefully, stripped off the condom, and tossed it. Justin turned onto his back, and I leaned on my arm and kissed him while our joined hands jerked him off.  
  
He groaned into my mouth, and I felt his come burning my skin.  
  
We were lying there tangled together, playing with each other’s fingers. I smiled at the paint under his nails.   
  
**Epilogue**  
 **  
Justin’s POV**  
  
It was the last Saturday in August, and I woke up with the sun shining in my eyes. I put my arm over my face, and then I smelled coffee. I cracked one eye open, and groaned when I saw Brian, a mug of what I devoutly hoped was coffee in each hand. “No. Tell me it’s not morning.”  
  
He grunted and set one cup on the bedside table, then stalked back out of the bedroom. I sat up, shoved my hair out of my face, and drained the coffee in one swallow. I got up, pulled on my jeans, and went into the kitchen to refill it. He was leaning on the counter. “You,” I said, “opened those fucking shutters.”  
  
“It’s almost 12.” He drained his cup.  
  
“Fuck.”  
  
It was Gus’ birthday, and we were due at his party at 1. Brian put his cup down and went and started the shower. I finished my coffee and then got in with him. He washed my hair and I laughed when he started trailing his shampoo-lathered fingers over my nipples, and then gasped when I felt his bare cock pressing against my crack.  
  
“I don’t think we have time for that.”   
  
He pulled me back under the water, and let the spray rinse the shampoo off my head and body. “Probably not.”  
  
Then he shoved me against the glass wall of the shower. “And yet…”  
  
I laughed, and let him tease my ass with his finger. I braced myself against the wall while he put on a condom, and then arched when I felt the head of his cock press against my hole. He slid slowly into me, and then pulled out again, reaching around me and taking my cock in his hand.   
  
The water hadn’t even started getting cool when I came, and he shuddered his orgasm into me while my ass was still clamped on his cock.   
  
I was pulling on my jeans, and watching him button his sleeveless black shirt. “We’re going to be late.”  
  
Brian laughed. “Gus won’t even notice. He’ll be flying on his drug of choice: Pure cane sugar.”  
  
When we got to Lindsay and Melanie’s house, Gus was running around the yard screaming with a few dozen of his closest, noisiest friends. Brian plastered a pleasant look on his face, which lasted until he saw that the only food available was hot dogs and birthday cake.  
  
Gus’ doctor was standing at the table talking to Melanie, and Brian walked over to her. I went and got a hot dog and wandered outside. Gus was climbing a ladder on an inflatable water slide his moms had rented for the party, and he landed in the wading pool at the bottom with a splash. The water felt good when the spray hit me; it was hot in the sun.  
  
“Justin!” Gus climbed over the edge of the pool and ran up to me. I let him hug me even though he was dripping wet.   
  
“Happy birthday, Gus.”  
  
He beamed at me, then raced over and got in line for the ladder again. I watched him go up and down a few more times, and then went back into the house.  
  
“Justin!” It was Lindsay. “Thanks for coming.”  
  
“I wouldn’t miss it, even if Gus has decided to abandon a career as an EMT.”  
  
“He’s going to be a zoologist now.” She was smiling.  
  
“I’m sure that pays better. But is it safer? Is that the kind of job where you might get eaten by lions?”  
  
Lindsay laughed. “Brian says you’re starting back at PIFA next week.”  
  
I nodded. “They credited my full tuition from the semester I didn’t complete towards the next semester, so I didn’t have to use my savings.” Brian had offered to give me the money for my tuition. When I’d said no, he’d offered to loan it to me. Fortunately now I didn’t have to worry about that.  
  
I found Brian in the kitchen, staring unhappily into the refrigerator. “I thought lesbians ate health food. They have nothing but junk in here.”  
  
“They have kids. Kids eat junk. It’s the American way.” I swallowed the last of my hot dog, and Brian snorted.  
  
He played the doting father when Gus came trotting in to top off his sugar levels, and didn’t flinch even when he threw his sopping wet self into Brian’s arms.   
  
A little later we were sitting on the porch steps. I looked sideways at Brian. “He’s doing great.” Gus had finished his last course of chemo just when I had my second surgery.   
  
Brian nodded and didn’t say anything, but his whole body felt relaxed against mine. We sat there in the sunshine, watching Gus opening his presents. I closed my eyes for a minute, feeling Brian’s arm looped over my shoulder, listening to everyone laughing as Gus tore into another gift.  
 **  
Brian’s POV**  
  
I decided I’d been parental enough for the day, so Justin and I went to the diner. We got there just as the dinner rush was starting, and a harried Debbie told us to wait outside while they got a table cleared for us.  
  
I stood behind Justin, him leaning back into me, my arms around his shoulders and my chin resting on his head. I felt the late afternoon sun soaking into my shoulders, and his warm back against my front. I felt drowsy and contented and thought, what the fuck.   
  
I put my mouth down right next to Justin’s ear. “I love you.”  
  
He didn’t move for a second, and then he twisted his head around and smiled at me. It was his big radiant smile, the one that lit up his whole face and did something strange to mine, too.   
  
He turned inside my arms, and kissed me. “I love you.” He grinned harder. “How the fuck did that happen?”  
  
I shrugged. “Debbie must have put something in our food.”  
  
He nodded, and bit his lip against a laugh. “Probably.” Just then, his stomach rumbled, loud, against mine.  
  
I laughed. “Jesus, Justin, don’t be such a romantic.”  
  
He nipped at my lip. “Fuck you.”  
  
Debbie hollered for us from the open door, and I followed Justin into the diner.


End file.
